Discovering Love
by wrestlefan4
Summary: Miz/Morrison have been together a long time but Johns passion for someone else destroys their relationship. Unstable and desperate Mike Miz runs to the arms of the biggest manipulator of them all. Is love really so hard to find? Miz/Mor,Mor/Cena,Miz/JBL
1. Chapter 1

_I know, I need another new story like I need a hole in my head. :) However, I guess I have a Miz muse because he has been bugging me for a while now to do this fic. So, here you go my Miz Muse. I hope all you nice readers out there enjoy. Oh yeah, and John Cena is also in here with John Morrison so...I tried to make it not confusing. I will basically refere to John Cena as 'Cena' to lessen confusino with the two Johns. _

Chapter 1

Mike "The Miz" Mizanin was shocked when he walked in. His breath caught quick in his throat when he saw John…and John clinging to the covers and each other. Their eyes grew wide as they were found out. John "Morrison" Hennigan ran a hand through his hair and worked his mouth wordlessly. Cena just sat up clutching the sheet in one fists and he just blinked stupidly at Mike. Mike stepped back and bumped into the dresser. Some things rattle around and John's hair gel toppled off onto the floor. Mike's eyes filled with angry tears.

"Mike, I-I…" Hennigan stuttered. His dark eyes cast downwards admitting their guilt. Mike grabbed his suitcase from the chair he had dumped it in the night before and began stuffing things into it. "Mike, don't leave…we can talk…"

Cena crawled out of bed turning red faced. He gathered his clothes and put his shorts on.

"We're not talking John. How many times do you think this can happen? You and Cena just can't seem to keep your hands off each other!" Mike clenched his teeth tighter angrily, a tear slipped down his cheek and he wiped it away on the back of his hand. He felt like he should march across the room and punch his boyfriend in the nose. Then he should shove his foot half way up Cena's rear. However, he would do neither. It wasn't in his character and even with what he had just witnessed he couldn't bring himself to lay a hand on Hennigan. Instead, he wadded up a few last things and shoved them into his suitcase.

"Where-where are you going?" Hennigan asked in a quiet, near whisper.

"I can get my own room. We're done splitting, split with him next time!" Mike found Cena's hat laying on the table and he threw it across the room. It hit the bigger man in his chest. Cena bent to pick it up and fixed it on his head.

"Mike, it won't happen again. Don't blame John. It was my fault." Cena tried to take blame but Mike sent a hard glare at his now former boyfriend.

"That's getting old John, really old!" Mike shouted so loud the people in the next room probably heard. He pushed past Cena and a couple more tears leaked from his eyes but at this point he was mostly overwhelmed with rage. The hurt and sadness would hit him later, and like a ton of bricks. Mike slammed the door and walked out.

"Great, just fucking great!" John Hennigan yelled. He threw the covers away from his naked form and stomped over to where his jeans and underwear lay in a crumple on the floor. He pulled his clothes on grumbling to himself.

"John, I'm sorry. This whole thing was my fault."

Hennigan turned to see Cena behind him. His voice was quiet and his eyes were alight with concern.

"It's not just your fault. He's right. We can't keep our hands off each other. This has gone on for a long time." John sighed loudly. He didn't understand everything he had been doing. He loved Mike. They had hooked up shortly after Mike had debuted in WWE and they had been inseparable since. Well, inseparable except when Hennigan found himself in the arms of John Cena. With Cena it was only lust at first and the times he and John found themselves together were few and far between. Mike had caught them once when they hadn't been secret fuck buddies very long and John had promised it would be no more. The promise was kept for as long as the two Johns could manage to hold out but they found that they were both drawn back to each other despite Hennigan being in a long term relationship with a man he claimed to love.

Cena had expressed his concerns. He didn't want to break anyone up. But Hennigan had assured him Mike wouldn't find out again. Despite both men being concerned for the relationship at stake, they couldn't stop what they had started. They tried to tell themselves that Mike wouldn't find them again. Their second bout of secretive physical interactions had stayed under wraps for so long they had both began to believe the that their second affair could stay a secret. Tonight had obviously proved that lie wrong.

"What are you going to do?" Cena wrapped his hands around the other man's waist and drew him close for a moment, but then he released him. "Sorry." He mumbled. Hennigan pressed a light kiss to Cena's lips.

"Don't be. I…have a choice to make." The two Johns held each others gaze, one set of dark eyes held another set of blue ones. "I either go after Mike and once again beg his forgiveness or…"

There was a silence in the room as Hennigan considered his second option. He closed his eyes against the conflicts that warred in his head.

"Or what?" Cena asked burrowing his fingers into Hennigan's long hair.

"What are we John?" Hennigan let out a sigh. "I'm so confused."

"I know." Cena pressed his lips together in thought. "I think what we started out as has developed into something else…but I don't know exactly what. I just know…if you don't patch things up with Mike…I want you to know I wouldn't mind us taking things to another level."

"I think maybe we already have. God, I don't know!" Hennigan pulled away from John and paced the room.

"Do you still love Mike?"

"I thought I did. I don't want him to go. I don't want you to go."

"Let me know what you decide, okay?" Cena gave a smile to John and squeezed his shoulder before turning to leave. Hennigan couldn't help but watch the man's backside as he did. He immediately chastised himself. What are you doing? Go find Mike.

_Reviews are much appreciated. Thankies!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Oh, poor Mike. :( Thank you too all who reviewed! It's always great to read what you guys have to say!_

Chapter 2

After going down to the lobby and finding all the rooms were booked, Mike walked to the bar across the street and decided to fix his problems via alcohol. He sat at a table in the back in a shadowed area and hung his head over as he thought about the events of the evening and many events of his past with John. He couldn't believe John and Cena had been at it again. How long had this been going on under his nose _again_? How long had he been so blind? How long had he been lied to? He looked back at all the romantic things John had done for him, all the little moments they had shared together that meant so much, all the times John had said 'I love you'. Did all of that mean nothing? Mike had always remained loyal. The thought of sleeping with someone else had never even crossed his mind. He had John and John was all he needed.

"He needed more than me." Mike grumbled. He looked down at the drink in his hand then raised it to his lips and swallowed. The liquid warmed and tingled his throat as it slid down. Maybe this wasn't the best way to deal with what had just transpired but hunting down Cena and cutting his manhood off didn't seem like a very realistic plan of action either. Cena was much bigger than him and could easily flatten him if he so desired.

Why had John continued to see Cena behind his back anyway? Was it the thrill of having a secret affair? Was Mike falling short in some way? Had John stopped loving him? A million questions swarmed Mike's head and he just wanted them all to shut up for the time being. He threw back another shot hoping the things running through his head might become blurry and muddled. How were they going to work tag-team? Now that was going to be very strained.

"Business is business. Personal life doesn't get in the way." Mike mumbled to himself. That was a good motto to try to follow, but it was crap. Maybe he could talk Vince in to letting them split and he and John could go to singles. That was nearly as improbable as Mike castrating Cena. Their combined wrestling career was going great and it would be stupid to just end it now. Mike shook his head. Things were going to get weird if they couldn't at least act civil towards each other, but Mike felt like acting anything but civil.

"Hi…"

He looked up to see Hennigan looking down on him nervously.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I asked the lady at the desk what room you were in…she said the rooms were all filled and that you came over here." John pulled out a chair and Mike was sure to send him the worst scowl he could muster.

"Well, you should just march back over there. Why don't you leave me alone, bastard!" He slammed his fist onto the table. Well Mike, so much for trying to act civil, you tried real hard at that one.

"You have every right to be pissed." John said hanging his head. Damn you John Hennigan, Mike thought to himself. When he was sad he just looked so pitifully cute. He's like the puppy you can't stay mad at because it's just so adorable. But this isn't a case of chewing up some shoes or something, he chewed up my heart! Mike didn't have to remind himself of that. He could feel the pain loud and clear. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on…wait…how does it go?

John brought his head up and looked at the face of his boyfriend. He saw anger, hurt, and confusion and he was the one who caused it all. John began to reach across the table but hesitated. Mike's hard gaze bore into him and made him feel like scum. Maybe he was scum. John reached for Mike's hands to hold them.

"Don't touch me." Mike said simply and drew his hands away. He balled them up in his lap. John's lips collapsed into a frown and his eyes slicked with tears.

"Mike, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't ask me. I don't know what's wrong with you either!" Mike barked. He got up from the table and got a beer. He headed back with it and sat down again ready to see what John wanted. What was he going to do blubber his eyes out and whine until Mike forgave him…again? No, that was not going to happen tonight, not ever again.

John didn't know how to apologize for his actions. How could he? He didn't even know for sure if he wanted to, he loved Mike, and at the same time he had feelings for Cena and he wanted to explore them. He knew he couldn't confess that to Mike. He couldn't just say to the man across from him 'I'll date you as my regular boyfriend and then on the side I want to see John and see what becomes of us'. Some men or women may have no problem with that sort of relationship but Mike was a good guy and John new he deserved better than that. Mike was not the arrogant jerk he portrayed as 'The Miz' in fact he was the opposite. He was sometimes too nice for his own good and he tended to lean more towards insecure than arrogant. John had often thought that 'The Miz' was an over-exaggerated image of what Mike really wished he could be in reality. Yeah John, and you're really helping him with his insecurities by screwing around on him. Some partner and lover you are. John sighed and hoped he was doing the right thing. He needed to rid himself of John Cena and focus on Mike…if it wasn't now too late.

"I'm done with John Cena. I know I've said it in the past and obviously I fucked up. I do love you Mike, you have to believe me!"

Mike stared down at his beer which was mostly gone now. He had gulped it down pretty quickly. It was hard enough to deal with what he had just witnessed earlier but now John was back just making things worse by confusing him further. He wanted to tell John it was okay and then wrap himself around the other man and just feel close. That's a pussy thing to do after how John's treated you. You can't just go running back, are you insane? Mike mumbled something to himself that John couldn't catch. Mike finished the rest of his beer and left the table to replace it. Once he was seated again John continued.

"I promise Mike…please? We've been together for almost two years, since you first came to work for the company, I just don't--"

"How much of that time did you spend going behind my back with Cena?" Mike raised his voice and some people around the bar looked over at the feuding couple.

"Too much." John said in a whisper. Mike could tell from his demeanor that John truly felt remorse for his actions. His brown eyes were swimming with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. His brows drew slightly together near the bridge of his nose, his bottom lip poked out a bit, and his shoulders slumped. "Mike please, I just want to be with you. You are the one I love. I could never love anyone the way I love you."

"Stop it!" Mike was unsure if he was directing that more to John or to himself. He was feeling his anger start to melt away even more and he didn't want it to. It was melting away into tears and he didn't want John to really see. It was a little too late for that, however, as the salty drops were now cascading down his cheeks and off the end of his nose. Some plopped onto the table and some dropped into his empty beer mug.

John's heart sank when Mike bowed his head and started to cry. He just watched for a few moments as the tears dripped onto the table and Mike's shoulders shook with silent weeping. A few tears spilled down his own face. He was the reason Mike's heart was breaking. John moved his chair around the table until he was beside Mike and he put his arms around the other man.

"I swear Mike, I'm so sorry!" John said into his ear. "I'm sorry Mike, I am!"

"Why?" Mike managed in a cracked voice. "Did you stop loving me, did you think I wouldn't notice, is he more attractive? Is he better in bed? Did I fail you somehow?"

John lifted Mike's chin so he could look him in the eye. Mike closed his eyes tight and more tears streaked his cheeks. His lips trembled with the pain that squeezed his heart.

"M-Mike will you…" John stopped to sniff his nose which had started to run from his own crying. "Will you please look at me?"

A bit reluctantly, Mike opened his eyes.

"I'm the one who failed. Don't ever think it was you, it was me." John lightly brushed Mike's tear streaked cheek with his thumb. "I failed you." He repeated and sniffled his nose again.

"It's…it's okay." Mike relented to his love for John that just wanted to bury what had happened. He relented to the hope of wanting to believe John again. He relented to appease the fear that he would have to actually face going on without John in his life. It was easier to pretend it never happened and lock the hurt away and move on. Things could get better if he tried hard enough to be whatever John wanted and needed. He didn't want to be without John and so he found himself returning when most would be too fed up to offer a second chance.

"It's not okay!" John protested. How could Mike tell him what he had done was okay? Even John knew it wasn't.

"I mean…I…forgive you." Mike pulled John's hands away from his face and held them. "I don't want to break up."

_Will it last? Can John and Cena really cut ties? Feel free to leave a few words of praise or criticism whichever you like. If you don't say anything I might hunt you down and hurt you. No, not really. :) Please give me some feedback. Thanks much!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for the reviews of chapters 1 and 2 from Divine Arion, Dark Kaneanite, wwelover aka Kayi, and x.Mayhem.X. Now, on to the third._

Chapter 3

All John could feel was relief. He wasn't sure if Mike would even talk to him, let alone forgive him, and so quickly. It almost made him feel guilty that the forgiveness was offered in such a short span of time. But Mike had forgiven him and that was all that mattered. This was his second chance and he was not going to screw this up. John turned rustling the sheets as he did so. Mike lay curled up on his side next to him. His shoulders rose slightly up and down with gentle sleeping breathes.

"I love you." John whispered.

John Hennigan closed his eyes replacing the darkness of the hotel room with the darkness of the back of his eyelids. His mind drifted off to when he had first met Mike. It was long before they had become a tag team.

They had bonded like glue and became quick and inseparable friends. John was the first to suggest taking things further. He was a bit reluctant at first, not knowing if Mike swung that way. He considered that if he revealed his deeper feelings for the other man that it could destroy their perfect friendship. John decided to gamble on it because his feelings for Mike grew more and more each time they were together. To his relief Mike felt the same. It hadn't destroyed their friendship at all. The funny thing about it was that after the deeper feelings had been revealed Mike had taken to being shy and nervous around John as though he was a blushing teenager forever on his first date. It was cute and endearing in a way.

The shyness had long since vanished although many of Mike's underlying insecurities had not. That was made apparent to John after some of Mike's comments tonight. He couldn't imagine how Mike could have twisted his affair with Cena into his own failure. Mike had never done anything to hurt John, he had always been there, he had always been loyal, he had always been full of love and affection, he had always put John before himself.

With his mind running over these things he realized how much Mike really did mean to him. How could he have come so close to throwing such a wonderful thing away? What he had with Mike was something special and nothing should come between them. I'm turning over a new leaf, John thought to himself. He opened his eyes to see the darkness and shadows of the room. He sighed into the quiet night, content and thankful to be where he belonged, next to Mike.

John rolled over again and reached towards the bed side table. He nearly sent the alarm clock toppling to the ground but with his quick reflexes he managed to divert the disaster. He found his cell phone on the table. He was going to text Cena and let him no in certain terms that they were through, period. Then he was going to delete Cena's number from his contacts list. John opened his phone and was momentarily blinded by blue light. Once his eyes adjusted he saw the name of the person he intended to call flash across the screen with a little envelope icon next to it. This meant Cena had sent him a text message. John opened the message. It read: hey sry bout earlier y dont me & u go out 2morrow nite & talk about things.

John got up from bed quietly, minding not to disturb the sleeping Mike. He tiptoed out of the room and shut the door as carefully as he could manage. When out in the hallway he dialed the number.

"Hey." Cena's voice, tinted with it's north eastern accent, greeted him.

"Hey." John whispered.

"Did you get my text? Did you talk to Mike?"

John ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a long sigh. He slumped back against the wall.

"I did." He paused to see if Cena would say anything. He didn't, there was just a silence. "I think we worked things out. He doesn't want us to break up."

"Do you?" Secretly, John Cena hoped that Hennigan would choose to break away from Mike and see him. However, Cena knew the chances were unlikely as he and Mike had been together and so close for so long. In the back of his mind he still wanted them to split. It made him feel bad to think that way but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to end it with Hennigan.

"I don't want to break up with Mike. I love him." Hennigan answered simply enough. Cena, in his own room, narrowed his eyes in suspicion. There was something in the other man's voice that sounded as though he was not one-hundred percent sure of his answer. Maybe he was ninety-five or even ninety-nine percent sure, but there was still the smallest room for doubt, hesitancy, regret, curiosity. Give it up man, Cena said to himself.

"Good. I'm glad to hear it." Cena sat on the edge of his bed and slumped. That was a bold faced lie. He wasn't glad to hear it. He touched the pillow next to him and realized that he would never again find Hennigan lying next to him. It wasn't as if he was heartbroken, neither man had invested that much in their relationship. But he was let down that they would not get to keep pursuing their physical ventures and he was even further saddened that they could not explore anything beyond that either. Now it was just plain and simple: we are friends who try to avoid each other because we have a weird past. Yeah, that was about the size of it.

"You're sure? I…I hope you find someone Cena."

"Yeah, thanks. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The two hung on the phone for a few moments of silence after the said 'goodnights'. Both Johns hoped that the other wouldn't lapse into the never ending battle of 'you hang up first' that would be just too silly. Cena almost laughed at the thought. Luckily for both, Cena hung up.

Hennigan held the phone to his ear even after John had hung up. He didn't really know why, it was as if he was lingering on that last conversation almost wishing that it had been something more. What are you thinking? You called him to tell him it was over and that you love Mike. John reminded himself of his original intentions and he finally hung up his phone.

Some part of his brain still wanted to run off down the hallway and up the elevator to two floors above where Cena was staying. That part of him that had made it okay for him to cheat on Mike was signaling to him like a red light. Mike is asleep, now is your chance. It would be too easy, just as it always had been. He and John hadn't completed what they had started earlier and it would be nothing to go up there and finish it, have a good talk, and come back down to Mike before morning. He didn't even have to worry about Mike waking up during the night and finding out. It was his experience that the guy slept like a dead man. John shook his head causing his dark hair to swoosh back and forth. The man he loved was in there sleeping and that was exactly where John was going. He had just been given a second chance and he was not about to blow it only hours after it was handed to him. He just told himself it would take some time to adjust to quitting Cena cold turkey. With that thought in mind John Hennigan returned to his room. He curled up next to Mike and feel into sleep and dreams.

_Hm...does this mean things are really over between John and John or can they really stay away from each other? We shall see. Please drop me a line or two and let me know what you think about chap. 3! Loves and thanks!_


	4. Chapter 4

_I have a lot of chapters done on this already, so it's kind of hard for me to not post them all at once. Lol. I'm finding my pacing is better with this story than some of my others though. Pacing always seems hard for me. However this fic just seems to write itself. It's always nice when that happens. :) Thank you for your reviews on chapter 3. Without further ado, here is the next._

Chapter 4

About a month had passed since the near break up of Mike and John. Things had been a bit towards the strained side at first but it didn't take long for the two men to fall back in to their regular relationship. Both were glad to be back on good terms and together again. The only thing that had really changed between the two of them was Mike. He seemed to become a bit more clingy and needy than he really should be. But then again, John had an affair not once but twice and so Mike had the right to want to be close. Maybe in his mind if he wasn't close enough then John might wonder off again like a stray animal.

John sat in the locker room putting some last minute touches on his hair and practicing his facial expressions in the mirror. He and Mike were about to go out and once again make fun of Cryme Tyme. Mike came up behind him and peered into the mirror fixing his fedora just perfectly. John could tell by the look on Mike's face that he had already lapsed in to 'The Miz' mode. He had that air of arrogance and the in-your-face attitude that could only belong to 'The Miz' and never to Mike Mizanin.

"The Chick Magnet has arrived." Mike stated wiggling his eyebrows at his mirrored reflection. John turned away from the mirror and wrapped his arms around Miz and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"I think a better name would be The Morrison Magnet, because I'm really attracted to you." John smiled and flipped his hair. "Get it? I'm attracted to you…like magnetism."

"I get it." Mike shrugged with a cocky little laugh. "But why wouldn't anyone be attracted to me? I mean, I'm The Miz."

Cena stayed in the gorilla area watching as Miz and Morrison did their thing. He was focused mostly on one more than the other. Morrison was a thing of beauty. His body was well tuned and in top condition. He was all flash and attitude and hot body. Cena tilted his head, musing. He had the same taste in men as he did in cars. At that thought John Cena laughed out loud. CM Punk, who was standing nearby for their match, raised an eyebrow.

"Something funny?"

"Just a thought I had."

"That is funny, you thought!" Punk teased and gave Cena a punch to one of his large muscled arms. Cena turned on him with a pretend scowl.

"Save it for the ring Straight Edge."

"You want some?" Punk stepped up to Cena and outstretched his arms in a 'bring it' posture. "Come--"

"Don't be stealing my line boy!" Cena said putting on a stern face. He advanced on Punk who waved his hand in front of his face in a 'You can't see me' gesture. "My gimmick is so cool all ya'll want it for yourself. I see." Cena nodded smugly and crossed his arms over his chest. Punk just laughed.

Cena turned his gaze back to Morrison who was in the ring going round with JTG. Cena watched as the other John's muscles worked and his tanned skin slicked with sweat and his dampening hair fell into his face. He bit on his lip as the movements elicited all kinds of memories and desires.

"Are you okay?"

"Shut up Phil." Cena said with a wave of his hand. Punk covered his mouth as he snickered.

"John's got a crush!"

"Do you want me to whoop your ass?"

"With what, two moves?"

Cena tore away from the match long enough to chase Punk down the hallway. He made a mental note to be sure and hide Phil's towel and clothes later on as a payback.

Morrison and Miz came up the ramp from their victory over Cryme Tyme. Before thinking, Cena clapped a sweaty Hennigan on his back.

"Good one!" He said before turning red and drawing his hand away. Hennigan stopped awkwardly trying not to look Cena up and down hungrily. The man looked good shirtless with his jeans shorts and trademark hat.

"Excuse you, keep your hands off you big ape!"

Hennigan turned surprised to hear such big words from Mike. But his partner was still in "The Miz" mode and so his cockiness had not yet dissolved into meekness.

"Sorry Mike, I didn't mean to." Cena backed off.

"Like hell you did! I should punch your fucking lights out!"

"Mike, don't talk stupid." Hennigan stepped between the two and pushed gently on Mike's chest to create space between he and Cena. The heat Mike's eyes were casting to Cena should have been enough to cause the man to erupt into flames.

"How am I talking stupid?"

"If Cena wanted to he could squash you like a bug. Just go and shower. Nothing's going on here." Hennigan held Mike's shoulders and looked into his eyes in attempt to diffuse the situation. He held his gaze until Mike broke it by looking downwards sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"I'll be there in a minute okay?"

Mike's eyes narrowed and he glanced from one John to the other.

"In a minute?" He snipped defensively.

"God Mike, what could we possible do in a minute or two? Chill out."

"Sorry John." Mike gave a few more wary glances to each John, then, as if to make a point to Cena, he pressed a kiss to Hennigan's lips before heading off to the locker room.

"John, I didn't mean to cause--" Cena's words were cut off by John's lips crashing against his. Cena leaned back against the wall as John pressed into him coaxing his lips open and then taking the kiss deeper. Cena's hands wrapped themselves in Hennigan's sweaty hair and a soft moan passed from Cena's mouth to Johns. John Hennigan was perhaps the best kisser Cena had ever had the pleasure of being kissed by.

Hennigan felt his body heat up as he pressed against Cena and plundered his mouth. He kept the kiss going and going, more and more, not wanting to break apart and end it. Sooner or later however, he would have to let Cena breathe. His head raced with erotic visions of what he and Cena could do together. Couldn't they just have one more time? Hennigan ran his hands over John's pulsing, twitching muscles. He finally broke the kiss because his head was spinning so fast he thought if he kept it up much longer one or both of them would pass out. Cena braced himself against the wall and pulled in air like a drowning man just brought up from some great depth. His eyes rolled back with the pleasure that flooded his body and sweat trickled down the side of his handsome face and traced a path along his strong jaw. Hennigan brought his hand between Cena's legs feeling the hardness that bulged at his jeans. He threw his head back in a frustrated howl that he could not have Cena again.

"John…" Was all Cena could manage as he caught his breath and tried to calm his lungs, head, and all his raging body parts. "This…has to stop."

Hennigan bit his lip but couldn't stop his hands from roaming over Cena's tight pecs and abs as his chest rose and fell with his breathing. His hands moved downwards and came to rest at Cena's belt. His fingertips inched over that border barely wiggling their way under the waist of his jeans. They just waited there knowing they could trek no further but wanting so much to.

"I know." Hennigan whined. "We already established that. I guess…that was just…me saying goodbye."

He forced his hands away from Cena and prompted his feet to move his body away. Cena was left wiping his face off and caught off guard by his music. He could be heard muttering 'shit' under his breath as he trotted out to the ramp.

_Ack! Shame shame on the Johns. Tsk tsk. Oh yeah, I just had a home made donut that my grandma made, and it was excellent. Yum! If you guys leave me some reviews I will send you some! lol. No really, I appreciate your words :) Plz and thankz_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you for reviews of chapter 4 they are greatly appreciated. Now to chapter 5 where you will encounter the first sex scene of the fic. I'm not sure but I think this is prob one of my best slash scenes, idk. Hopefully it is not too graphic for some of you, I never know in some if I am not going far enough or as in this one, if I went to far. I'll let you readers be the judge._

Chapter 5

You're stupid. That's what Mike told himself as he stepped under the shower head in the RAW locker room. You just left them together. But wasn't John right? What could they do in only a few minutes? Mike tilted his head back and let the water spray over his sweaty body. Mike tried his best to push the thoughts of John's past ventures with Cena out of his mind. He closed his eyes against those thoughts and felt tears burn behind his lids. He had seen the look of lust and hunger in Hennigan's eyes when he had turned to Cena out in the gorilla. That desire was what kept Mike in worry and doubt that just maybe his lover would once again start something behind his back. John had made a promise.

The first time John had made no promises he had just played it off as a stupid mistake and he filled Mike's head with 'I love yous' and he talked and comforted and reassured until Mike had nearly accounted the whole affair to be some strange figment of his own imagination. That was his problem, he was too needy and afraid of being left alone and that caused him to overlook and minimize things that were really huge fuck ups on Hennigan's part.

_I want him to look at me the way he looks at Cena._

Mike jumped when he felt arms slither from behind and wrap around his naked waist.

"Hey baby." John's hot breath tickled his ear and sent shivers and electrical pulses through his body. "See…" John purred. "I told you I'd only be a few minutes."

John's hands drifted downwards. His fingers moved gently barely touching and teasing. The slow tickling fingers were enough to drive Mike insane. He pushed back against John feeling the other man's erection stiffen against his backside. John's fingers stopped their exploration and he just held Mike by the waist.

"What do you want me to do Mike?" John hissed. "Want me to touch? I could do other things…I could take you in my mouth and run my tongue slowly, so slowly and wet, from the base and then come up to the tip." To emphasize his point John pressed the end of his tongue to the base of Mike's neck and brought the hot and sticky muscle tantalizingly slow up the throbbing vein in Mike's neck. "Again and again, just so painfully slow, I could take you in my mouth and feel you hard and throbbing against my tongue while I just drag it around your fucking hot cock, maybe even scraping my teeth a little along the way up and down... " John trailed his tongue again up and down Mike's neck feeling the blood pump faster and faster beneath the skin. The heat in the room was palpable and if the place had windows they would all be steamed white.

John growled and repeated his tease up and down Mike's neck once more before continuing his sensuous descriptions. "Can you feel it swirling and pressing…my heat slicked tongue rubbing, stroking, suckling…" John brought his tongue to rest at the back of Mike's ear and there he swirled it around in tight little circles. "And then I'll pull away slowly and I'll just give a little blow." John pulled his lips slightly from Mike's ear and blew a short, soft breath against the damp skin. Mike let out a low moan that ended on a sigh and John could feel him shudder with pleasure. "Then I'll take you deep."

John finally moved his hands once again downwards and he found his words had brought Mike to full attention. He took the throbbing heat in his hand and moved his fingers up and down pressing lightly in just the right places.

"John…" Mike moaned and tilted his head back to rest on Johns shoulder. He felt like nothing more than melting into Hennigan and forgetting that anything bad had ever happened in their relationship.

"Ah, you feel so good baby." John all but groaned as his fingers continued to slide and caress gradually increasing the pressure. Mike could barely contain himself and he bucked against John in need for him to increase the pace and stop his wonderful but horribly slow and gentle motions. John began to rock his hips along with the motions of his hand causing his own hardness to press against Mike.

"You're so hot." John gasped as his pace remained agonizingly slow a few moments longer. He intended to keep it that way until Mike was on the verge of losing his mind. His hot lips pressed to Mike's neck and suckled at the flesh.

"John please, oh John!"

"Not yet…" He whispered. John tightened his grip on his partner's length until the pressure of his grasp forced Mike to bite down on his lip and arch back into John. John moved his hand to the end of Mike's length and then moved his thumb over the head.

"John!" Mike reached behind him and clawed at the back of John's legs as he lost himself in the intoxicating bliss.

Now John slipped his raging, sizzling, stiffness into Mike just as slowly as he had been moving his hand.

Mike's head swam in a swirl of amazing sensations as John sent him higher and higher. The man moved skilled fingers over his head and slipped his throbbing length in so slowly that Mike thought he couldn't take it. Waves of pleasure crashed through his body like waves breaking and slamming against a sea shore. Mike could hold his mouth shut now longer and a series of ragged and desperate cries burst from him and filled the locker room—which was thankfully empty.

John finally quickened his pace as Mike shouted his name over and over louder and louder. The man bucked against him as John thrust and puffed hot breath into Mike's ear. Mike was not always so loud, but that was mostly John's fault. He knew the right things to do to drive Mike into insane ecstasy but he often did only what he could to get by. He realized it wasn't fair to Mike to not give as much as he could and pleasure him to his fullest extent. Mike always gave one hundred percent to him. John wondered how that thought could even slip in to his mind and distract him from what he was doing. For him it was good sex but from the reactions of Mike it was more than amazing for him and John intended to keep it that way and give Mike his full attention. Anything less would just be unfair.

That's how it should be anyway, you should devote yourself to him but will you really? John thought to himself. You came in here all steamed up from Cena and just thought you could use Mike as a release, how fair was that? Well he's getting it damn good isn't he? John tried to push away all the thoughts that were invading his mind during such an inappropriate time. He put them away and focused on sending Mike over the edge. It wasn't long until John brohgt Mike to his peak and his hand was coated in warm liquid. Mike leaned back against him panting in pleasure. After his breathing began to slow, he lay his head on John's shoulder and just purred in his ear for a few minutes like a contented cat. Then he turned to John.

"Hey, you didn't come."

John shrugged.

"It's okay."

"But, that's not fair to you."

John couldn't help but feel the guilt that rose inside. It turned his stomach and threatened to make him sick. He swallowed away the feeling as best as he could. Here was Mike being the dutiful boyfriend again worrying about John's horny ass when he had been moments ago all over Cena and ready to fuck the man's brains out. That little escapade had made him feel bad and in return he decided to give Mike some hot sex. Yeah, as though that could somehow make up for his own lustful desires that continued to rage on without regard to the man who stood in front of him. That man looked up at John with love in his eyes. It was love that at this point, John didn't feel he deserved.

"I-it's okay baby." John repeated and stepped out of the shower.

Mike turned off the water and padded across the slippery tile nearly losing his footing once. He wrapped a towel around his waist and followed John out to the lockers where they changed. Luckily for both of them their romance had ended just in time as Chris and Shawn entered the locker room joking and laughing.

Mike and John exited the locker room and as they walked out into the parking garage Mike smiled. He had been upset at John wanting to stay behind a minute or two to talk to Cena. That was so petty and jealous and he chastised himself for getting so defensive. John loved him and he had just given him something special to remind him, and he didn't even want anything in return. Mike made a mental note to do something hot and romantic to repay John for his thoughtfulness. John really was a good guy, he just forgot it sometimes.

_Whew! Was that good or what? I think I could feel the steam form Mike's shower come wafting out through my laptop. lol. Lemme know what you all think plz. As always, thank you for reading and taking time to send a few words my way._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Cena flipped channels on his t.v. and finally settled on a football game. He flopped back onto his bed and rolled his eyes upward toward the ceiling. His hand strayed to his lips and he traced his fingers lightly over them reminiscing about the kiss, his last kiss, with John Hennigan. If he closed his eyes and let his mind drift back he could feel the warmth of them pressing tight to his. Cena sighed and toyed with his phone. He knew he should have just deleted John's cell number but he hadn't brought himself to do it yet. Now it was still there stored in his phone and all it would take to call him was the push of one button. He closed the phone with a snap and set it aside on his dresser.

Why did things have to be so complicated? Cena was not hopeless in the love department. There were plenty of women and men who would be more than willing to be on his arm. The truth was since that month had passed he had found himself thinking of John when he was with someone else and missing him more than would be appropriate if they had indeed been only fuck buddies—just sex unhindered by deeper emotions.

Still Cena could realize he hadn't developed some deep love for John, that wasn't what it was, it was just more of an attachment and something that had formed into a friendship. Cena had a feeling that if they spent more time together, not just having sex, but actually going out and dating, that there was something under the surface. It just needed some coaxing out.

But what did that matter? There was nothing left but the last taste of John's lips on his.

Mike lay between John's legs with his head resting in the other mans lap. Both were stretched out on the bed. Mike closed his eyes as he enjoyed the soothing touch of John's hands running over his short hair. It always made him feel sleepy and that proved to be especially true after the romp in the shower earlier. Somehow, though only a month had passed since the horrible act had been exposed, Mike felt that things were again as they should be.

"I love you." He mumbled up to the man who held him.

"I love you too baby." John replied and smiled down at Mike.

You are a very lucky guy, John thought to himself as he looked down on Mike who was struggling to keep his eyes open. His eyes fell half closed and he released a contented sigh. Right here in my lap is everything I need. John felt the soft bristles of Mike's hair beneath his hand as he moved it back and forth over the short hair.

John tilted his head back against the pillows and felt himself drifting into sleep. His hand stopped and rested still on top of Mike's head. His mind drifted back to when he had first met Mike.

It wasn't lust like he had with Cena. When he first saw Mike he was smitten like a kid with his first crush. He found Mike to be cute and lovable with his placid demeanor, silly jokes, and child-like bashfulness. He had at first found it to be quite a contrast against "The Miz's" boisterous personality. After he got to know Mike the shyness melted a bit but for the most part he was still much more Mike than Miz.

Their first date had been one for the books. It was like some haphazard bunch of events that would have only happened in a sappy romance-comedy. It all started when John was in the bathroom. He was standing over the sink with a towel around his waist shaving when he dropped his electric razor in the toilet. He didn't have time to go out and buy another one so he went around knocking on doors to ask to borrow someone's razor but he either found the inhabitants to be gone, stingy with their possesions, or offering him a disposable razor instead. Finally when he was sure he was not going to get an electric razor he snagged a plastic one from someone—he couldn't even remember who it was—and he shaved the other side of his face. However, that razor had a little green strip on it and whatever was on that little green strip caused that half of his face to break out.

Of course it was horrifying for John who liked to always look his best and was even accused of being vain. He considered trying to find some lotion for it but then realized he was running late after trekking around the hotel to find a razor.

So, John showed up late to the restaraunt. Luckily, he wasn't the only one having a bad time of it. The first thing Mike did after they had sat down to eat was to spill his drink half on the table and half in his lap. John could not remember ever seeing anyone turn as red as Mike had that day when he spilled his drink everywhere.

They were then given the wrong food because the waitress who had taken down their order had been too preoccupied with staring at John to actually write down the correct thing. Once their correct food was brought out, Mike spilled that too.

After the lovely dinner came a movie. The movie they had wanted to see was sold out so they opted for another. Not only did the movie turn out to be horrible but they sat in front of two kids who kicked the back of their chairs non-stop and behind an older couple who talked through the whole movie.

John had thought asking Mike on a date was the wrong thing to do. They had been out plenty of times as friends before John got up the nerve to ask him out as something more. But if date number one was any kind of omen as to how the rest of the relationship would play out then John wasn't so sure they should step to the next level. Maybe it was enough to just be best friends.

Then, he kissed Mike. As corny as it sounded when he now thought it over in his head, the kiss was the only thing that saved the whole date and gave the opening for a second. There was something so unique about it that went beyond physicality that John had known Mike was something special.

"He still is." John mumbled to himself as he looked down at Mike's sleeping form through his half-closed eyes. A smile stretched across his face and he drifted into a peaceful sleep.

_Aw, cute. Let me know what you all think as always please. Muchos gracias!_


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you to my loyal readers/reviewers. :D Here's numero 7 for you all.

Chapter 7

"You know what I was thinking last night?" John called to Mike from the bathroom. He was putting last minute touches on his hair and then he and Mike would check out of the hotel, hop in their rental, and drive to their next destination which was Indianapolis, Indiana.

"Um, you're thinking that it's almost past check out time so you better get your backside moving?" Mike came into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around John's waist. He peered at his reflection next to John's and something in the back of his head made him feel inferior. John was practically perfect with his handsomely chiseled features and his body which looked like it was sculpted from stone. Mike was just an average somewhat attractive guy, at least that's how he really felt. Of course Miz knew he was the hottest thing since sliced bread, but that was a different thing entirely. Mike looked away from his reflected face and smiled at John as he gave his hair a few final pats. "Your hair looks fine." Mike assured him.

"Like the rest of me." John said shooting a wink to his reflection.

"Exactly." Mike agreed.

Still, John stood fusing at himself in the mirror as though something was out of place. Mike reached around and grabbed John's sunglasses from the counter.

"Hey, over hand my shades."

"No can do!" Mike ran off with his suitcase and John's shades forcing The Shaman of Sexy to part with his mirror.

John found Mike in the parking garage leaning against the car with his shades perched on his nose pretending to look cool. As he approached Mike lowered the glasses and looked over the tops of them with his eyebrows raised dramatically.

"Hi there gorgeous." He teased as John approached.

"You have something that belongs to me." John said reaching his hand out and wiggling his fingers in a 'give it here' gesture.

"Me?" Mike feigned innocence. "I know nothing!" He ducked into the drivers side of the car and John sighed as he slammed the door of the passengers side. He pretended to be in an angry mope.

"You win." Mike said ten minutes later as they headed down the highway and John still refused to come out of his pout. "I'm over handing your shades."

"I knew you would see reason." John took his shades back and rested them in his hair. "They look better on me anyway."

"You're right." Mike conceded with a laugh. "Hey, what were you talking about earlier?"

John reached under his seat and pushed the chair back as far as it would go. He then propped his feet up on the dash and leaned back with his hands laced behind his head.

"Huh? Oh in the bathroom? I was going to say last night I got to thinking about our first official date."

Mike cracked up and slapped a hand to his forehead.

"What a freaking fiasco." He said remembering the mishap himself. "I spilled everything I got my hands on. It was stupid, I mean we'd already known each other for a while and were already friends but I was still so nervous, I'm surprised along with everything else I spilled that night that I didn't just spill my guts too."

The laughter of both men filled the car as it sped down the highway.

"Do you remember John? The next day you saw me looking all pale and shaky and asked me what was wrong? Remember what happened?"

"Oh yeah!" John grinned at the memory. "I forgot about that. Poor guy, you ended up with food poisoning from the meal you ordered!"

"I was sick as fucking dog! I spent the night camping out on the bathroom floor!"

More laughter permeated the space of the car and Mike even had to wipe a few tears from his eyes.

"Geeze, I'm just glad you still wanted to see me again." John turned his gaze to Mike who was fixing the cruise control. "I'm still glad too. I haven't been a rose garden…I'm sorry you've had to get poked with some thorns Mike."

Mike looked ahead out the windshield thoughtfully for a few moments and then shrugged.

"Isn't that what love is though? You stick together even through the screw ups. You can't just hang around for the highs you have to keep going through it all."

"You're deep."

"I try."

"But, with all joking aside, you are right Mike." John reached over the center consol and gave Mike's leg a little squeeze. "There are going to be less screw ups."

"That's good to know." Once again there was silence as Mike gazed out into space. After a few moments he broke his silence. "I don't want to lose you to anyone else. I know there are a lot of people who are a lot more attractive than me and you, well, you could easily have--"

"Mike, stop. Don't say that, you're very attractive."

"Oh please."

"Well, you're no John Morrison." John put on his best sexy pout and attempted to lighten the moment with some levity. "But then again, who is?"

"You're ego is so big it should have its own zip code."

"That's not an overused expression or anything." John rolled his eyes.

"Shut up you!" Mike laughed and swatted at John causing his beloved shades to fall from their perch on his head. They toppled down to the floor boards and when John bent to pick them up he hit his head on the underside of the dash causing the glove box to fall open and drop manuals, ketchup packets, and condoms on his head. Mike just laughed as John fiddled with the compartment and tried to fit all the things back in.

"How in the hell was all of this in here?" He muttered as he dragged the things back out into his lap and tried to rearrange them in a way that would allow the drawer to close. "Screw it." John said and he rolled down his window and tossed a handful of ketchup packets and condoms out the window. Mike just sat back in his chair cracking up.

_Over hand my reviews! (please?) I'll prob post 8 later today too. :D_


	8. Chapter 8

_Thank you for reading and to those of you who reviewed thank you for your words. :) Let me know any positives or negatives, I always want to be a better writer so let me know! Here be eight._

Chapter 8

"What's wrong?" Randy Orton flipped channels on the radio as Cena drove distractedly. "He-llo? Earth to John Cena!" Randy waved his hand in front of Cena's face.

"Idiot, what do you want me to do wreck?"

"Of course. I can just get re-injured again, I love having all sorts of fun broken things in my body!"

"Wow, I sense some sarcasm." Cena snorted.

"You're a genius!" Randy tilted his head and sent a smirk to the driver of the car. "You know what else happened today? Hell froze over, Michael Jackson got his nose back, and Mark Henry admitted to being an anorexic!" Randy clapped his hands together excitedly.

"You are an asshole."

"Yes, I am." Randy stated proudly. "Now why the hell are you so distracted? I wouldn't mind arriving at the arena in one piece."

Why must people pry? Cena thought as he let out a sigh and watched the lines on the road speed by. Why am I riding with Orton anyway? That was another good question because even in real life the two did not exactly get along on any kind of friendly terms. They were not enemies but they had never crossed the line from co-worker to friendship. The truth was, Randy annoyed Cena a bit because even outside the ring he tended to be over-cocky.

"Alright." Randy sighd switching off the radio and drowning the car in silence. "Suit yourself." The young man crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head on the cool glass of the window. After a few minutes of nothing but silence John reached for the radio. Randy swatted his hand away.

"I'm trying to sleep. If you want to hear a song listen to the one in your head. What is it, the ABC song?"

John grumbled and scowled over the steering wheel. After that the car was once again doused in an irritating silence. What was more irritating was that John knew that Randy knew that he hated the nothingness off silence. He always had music or a t.v. on just for background noise. Finally after nearly fifteen minutes of deafening nothingness Cena began to pound the horn.

Randy startled and nearly jumped out of his chair.

"What in the fuck are you doing!" He shouted. Cena pressed the horn sending confused motorists out of his way.

"It's too quiet. I'm making noise."

"Quit hitting it so hard, you're going to pop the air bag." Randy yelled.

Cena stopped his insane assault on the horn and leered over at Randy. He turned the radio back on and thus avoided Randy's attempt to drag answers out of him. If he had gotten anywhere with Cena, however, he would have found those answers had something to do with another John.

Tonight was an eight man tag-team match with The Miz and Morrison, Finlay and Matt Hardy, Cody Rhodes and Ted DiBiase, and Cena and Batista. They had briefly gone over the matches before hand and Cena and Batista were slated to win.

The Miz and Morrison had both been in and out of the ring tonight and they had also done a bit of double teaming but as of now Mike stood on the apron watching the rest of the match. He knew he would not be tagged in again, John was supposed to be pinned by Cena. In the ring at this point were Morrison, Matt, Dibiase, and Batista. Matt had DiBiase slouched in a turnbuckle and was raining punches down onto the young superstar. Batista had Morrison set up for a Batista Bomb but Morrison wiggled out and down Batista's back to knock him off his feet and take him into a roll up that brought a one-count. Batista kicked out and Morrison made his way to The Miz for the tag but before he could make it Batista speared him to the matt and then tagged in Cena.

In the other corner Dibiase now had the upper hand on Hardy. Matt climbed to the turnbuckle to set up but DiBiase knocked his feet out from underneath him causing the dark haired Hardy to crotch himself on the turnbuckle. He sat for a moment eyes wide and rolling before toppling off and hitting the matt with a crash. He then writhed around a bit while Dibiase went for a pin. Hardy kicked out and made a crawl to the ropes where Finlay was desperately reaching over the them hoping to make the tag. However, Dibiase grabbed Matt's ankle and dragged him away at the last minute.

Dibiase turned from Matt when Rhodes reached over and tagged his shoulder. The two began to argue and forget about Hardy who knee walked to Finlay and tagged the Irishman in. The crowd went nuts and Finlay began to wail on both the younger guys.

Meanwhile Cena and John had been wrestling around on the other side of the ring. Despite this being business Mike couldn't help but feel pangs of fear and jealously tighten his chest as he watched the two men who had been lovers grappling each others sweaty bodies. Mike squinted, noticing Cena and John were talking to each other as they moved and went about their battle. He tried to make out what they were saying but at last failing to do so he decided it was best to just ignore it. It was not uncommon for guys to talk to each other during matches. Mike tried to remind himself that despite John and Cena's past they still had to work together as colleagues and that was just what they were doing now, their job…nothing more.

"Hey, you and Mike doing okay?" Cena kept his voice low as he and John locked up.

"Fine." Morrison replied simply and ducked under Cena's legs as the bigger man tried to grab him. Morrison grabbed Cena's head with one hand and with the other began to rain punches into his face. Cena finally blocked and threw the smaller man away. Morrison lay on the matt rolling around and holding his lower back as Cena pandered to the crowd.

He then leaned over Morrison and waved his hand in front of his face. The crowd chanted "You can't see me!"

"I miss you." John said before performing his finisher and pinning Morrison for the win.

_hm...what will happen in the next chapter? I have up to chapter 14 done already and it's kind of driving me crazy having them all sitting there waiting to be posted. But I don't exactly want to just post them all at once. Well, I guess in the meantime I'll work on more chapters. :D Yay!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Good morning...I guess. I got about 3 hours of sleep last night and I feel like a zombie. When I get home from classes I'm crashing. I'll prob have some more chapts later today. Oh yeah I almost forgot to thank my reviewers, I'm out of it. When I logged in this moring for my email I typed and clicked the button like 3 times wondeing why I couldn't log in. Yeah I finally realized something was missing from my email address. lol. _

Chapter 9

Cena knew what he said during their match was inappropriate. He didn't really mean to but it was only the truth. He was annoyed with himself for being so stupid. John and Mike were back together and that was how things should be. Cena draped a towel around his neck and sighed.

"Hey," A familiar voice came to his ears. "About in the ring tonight."

Hennigan sat down beside him and patted his face with a towel.

"Look John, I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that." Cena started before John could say anything else. He expected John to protest or something but instead Hennigan nodded.

"I can't say that I'm completely…" He stopped to try and find the right word. "I guess over you yet. But the fact is, I'm really happy with Mike and I mean to keep it that way. He deserves my loyalty." John smiled and draped his towel over his head.

"That's great." Cena said trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible. "I want you both to be happy." Cena didn't add the rest of his thought: Although I was hoping you'd be happy with me and Mike would find happiness with someone else. That really was a selfish thought and he felt bad the moment it crossed his mind.

"Yeah, I'm doing something really special for him tonight." Hennigan continued.

"Oh yeah?" Cena couldn't help but focus on Morrison's warm familiar eyes. He had seen the passionate heat in those eyes many times. But no more John, Cena told himself mentally. He sighed and rose from the bench and opened his locker and pulled out his bag. "Mind if I ask what?"

Hennigan chuckled.

"I'm taking him out on a second first date. Our first one was kind of a disaster, so I thought we could try a redo. After everything that's happened…I think it might be nice to just start over."

John left Cena standing at his locker wondering to himself if he too could start over. It was kind of hard to do when all he could think of was the man who was Mike's boyfriend.

Mike sat curled up on the bed with his lap top in front of him checking emails. He tapped the keys and read something funny his cousin had sent him.

"Hey baby."

Mike turned away from his computer to see John leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. He looked amazing with his dark hair falling to his shoulders. His brown eyes glittered softly, his lips curved into a sexy pout. He was wearing a red button up shirt with a few of the buttons undone to reveal a tantalizing peek of his tanned and toned chest, the sleeves were rolled up to reveal his bronze muscled arms, and beneath the shirt he wore a pair of tight, dark, jeans that hugged him perfectly. Finally, black pointed boots poked out. John lifted one booted foot and crossed it over the other. Mike's mind flashed back to that first date. John had worn an outfit which was practically identical and when Mike arrived at the restaurant he found John waiting for him leaning against the wall in much the same pose as he was doing now. The only thing that was different was that half of his face was red and bumpy with some irritated razor burn. Mike's throat went dry and his eyes misted over a bit, damn it if he wasn't sentimental.

"Hey sexy."

"That's not how you greeted me before." John smiled and fumbled his hands nervously into his pockets. "Heh, hi John." He imitated Mike's nervousness on that first date and Mike cracked up.

"I was a wreck."

"Yeah, you were, but I think you've improved since then. And look, I even learned how to shave!" John laughed and took Mike's hand in his and ran it over his smooth face. Mike smiled fondly into the other man's warm eyes and then he pressed his happy lips to John's.

"So, what's the occasion?" Mike asked gently pulling away.

"There doesn't have to be an occasion for John Morrison to look good, I always look good." John winked and sent Mike to chuckling. "But really, to be serious, I want to take you out tonight. I want us to start over."

"I get it, like a second first date?"

"Exactly." John frowned at Mike and waved his hand jokingly. "But I'm not taking you anywhere dressed like that." John dramatized. Mike reached over and threatened to muss up his partner's hair but John was quick and jerked away.

"No no, don't mess with my locks of perfection. See how they shine and bounce?" John tossed his head dramatically.

"You're too much." Mike laughed and rummaged in his suitcase and then disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Mike grumbled to himself as he sat in a nice restraunt with John: "So much for turning over a new leaf." Mike up righted his glass and tried to soak up the mess with his cloth napkin. John just put his head in his hand and rolled his eyes.

"Can we get some napkins?" John said between giggles as the waitress bounded over. Mike turned five shades of red as the waitress came back with a towel and tried to help. Instead of helping however, she dumped Mike's plate into his lap. Now the red on her cheeks matched perfectly with Mike's.

"Oh my God! I am so sorry!" She gasped. John sat back in the booth trying rather unsuccessfully to keep his laughter contained. He didn't want to mar the atmosphere of the fancy place by shrieking with uncontrollable guffaws but he wasn't doing such a good job at containing his amusement. People were turning to stare as John's whole body shuddered with his laughing fit. That fit only increased when the waitress began to pick food off of Mike's lap.

"Uh, th-that's okay I can get it." Mike shooed her hands out of the way.

"I'll go get you a new plate and drink."

"That's okay, I was done." Mike looked across the table at John who was in stitches. Tears streamed down his face and then, when John caught the frazzled look on Mike's face, he actually snorted so loud and hard that he began to cough and sputter. That was just enough to send Mike into a similar bout of laughter. Snorting was funny as it was but he had never heard John snort before. It was just too funny, the sound burst out from him like he was a congested sow snorting at her piglets. This farm-yard sound shouldn't have come from a guy who pictured himself to be the perfect image of suaveness. The waitress came back with the check to find both of the men howling and in tears.

"Um, here's your check. Could you uh…maybe quiet down please? People are complaining."

"Sorry." Mike managed between sniffs. John dabbed at his eyes with his napkin. The two men managed to calm themselves and for a few moments they held a silent gaze…at least until John's eyes began to water and Mike's lips began to twitch…then it was all over and they erupted all over again.

"So…" John said once they were in the car. "Still want to go to the movie?"

"Well, can we at least stop by the room so I can change my pants?" Mike looked down to his lap which wore a dark brown stain. Part of it was from the drink and part was from the steak sauce. "I look like I shit myself from the wrong side."

The car was filled again with laughter and it took a while for it to subside. John once again mopped at his eyes and then stuck the key into the ignition and turned it.

"This night is really sucking so far." John said as he backed out of the space.

"No it's not, I haven't had this much fun for a long time." Mike leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his cheeks which were actually hurting from so much laughter.

"I guess I should take you out on second first dates more often."

"Uh, let's not and say we did."

With Mike changed the two walked from the hotel a few blocks to the theatre where they caught a movie which was thankfully not as eventful as the dinner. When they emerged from the theatre the evening was closing and making the shadows grow. The two walked down the sidewalk watching people pass. John reached over for Mike's hand and laced his fingers with Mike's.

"Hey, I'm proud."

"Of what?" Mike tilted his head quizzically. A playful smirk danced on John's lips and curled them seductively.

"You didn't spill anything in the theatre."

"Shut up!" Mike said with a grin and an eye roll.

John drew Mike closer and wrapped his arm around the other man's waist as they continued to walk. Up ahead was a park and the two veered off in that direction. They walked along a path that led down to the river. Near the rivers edge were a few stone benches and a dock stretching out into the lapping brown water. A few geese outstretched their wings and in a flurry of feathers and honks they propelled their bodies up and out of the water in flight. They became no more than darkened shadows that flapped black wings against the sky that dripped with deep reds, pinks, and oranges as the sun wandered down past the horizon line.

John led Mike to one of the stone benches and John sat at one end. He pulled Mike down beside him and pressed his lips to Mike's in a soft and sensuous kiss.

"Beautiful." John sighed as he pulled away from Mike.

"The sky?" Mike fixed his gaze to the beautifully painted expanse of fiery sky. The river snaked along below it catching the bits of light and flicking them up in dazzling shimmers and winks of warm color. John turned Mike's face to his.

"No, you." John said breathlessly.

Mike looked up into the brown eyes that shimmered with love and he could feel his own heart melting like the fire of the setting sun.

_I know that was really fluffly. It was sweet though, but darn this chapter it's what got me to thinking of my ex. Oh well life goes on I guess. Hopefully my lovely readers will drop me a few lines, it's encouraging and makes me go yay! 'Kay I need to go o class then get some sleep so I'm off for now. Thank you for reading or reviewing. :)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Okay a short explanation, when I was doing 10 I couldn't think of any way to really start it out. I just wrote "Mike Mizanin" and stared at it for a long time. Then I started thinking of this silly little acrostic thingy and it made me laugh so much I had to leave it in. It's corny as heck. Thank you Dark Kaneanite, Divine Arion, and x.Mayhem.x for your reviews of last chapter. :D_

Chapter 10

**_M_**y lover is

**_I_**ntoxicating

**_K_**aptivating

**_E_**xotic

**_and_**

**_M_**agnificent

**_I_**rresistable

**_Z_**illion times hotter than any one else

**_A_**wesome

**_N_**vigorating

**_I_**nsanely sexy

**_N_**ticing

Love, John

(I went to the gym across the street to work out.)

Mike laughed as he pulled the post-it from the mirror and read the silly acrostic that spelled out his name. He had slept in late after driving half the night to their newest destination. They had gone from Indianapolis, Indiana to a few smaller places where they did shows and now they were in Chicago, Illinois which was CM Punk's home town for another taping. Since the night of their first second date John had been in the doting boyfriend mood and had been doing all sorts of nice, silly little things for Mike.

It really seemed like their relationship was having a new birth. Mike stuck the yellow note to the counter and yawned, stretched his arms over his head, and heard one of his shoulders pop. He moved it in circles for a few moments then slipped off his boxers and stepped into the shower.

He found John's body wash on the edge of the tub and picked it up and sniffed. The smell was wonderful. They only thing that made it better was when it intermingled with John's natural scent. Mike squeezed the bottle again under his nose and the small puff of scented air poofed out. He sighed and replaced the bottle.

As he showered he thought of John across the street at the gym working his muscles and building up a shimmering sheen of sweat. In another room not so far away another man's thoughts were drifting once again to John Hennigan. Cena sighed and pulled a white muscle shirt over his head. He had lessened his thoughts of John but they were not yet non-existent. Just last night he had woken up to the last clinging remnants of a hard-on inducing dream involving the person he was trying to forget.

Cena tied his sneakers up, grabbed a bag, and then headed out of his room, down the hallway, down the elevator, out the lobby and across the street to the gym. It was still early and he hoped to hit it and get his work out done before the gym was full of people.

He entered the gym and looked around to find that at first it seemed deserted.

"First customer of the day?" He said to the blonde woman at the front. She shook her head with a smile and her fair pony tail flopped from side to side.

"There's one other person."

He followed her pointing finger to a man who was working on a machine. Great, Cena nearly grumbled, just great. He recognized the form immediately as John Hennigan. Maybe if I don't look at him he won't notice me and I'll forget he's here. Ha, sure. Cena stuffed his bag into a locker and headed to a machine that was across the room from Hennigan.

John hummed along to the music that was playing in his ears. He was almost done with his morning work out. He just needed to finish a few more reps here and then head over to do some bench presses. He knew he was the only one in the gym besides the blonde woman at the counter and that he shouldn't do the bench presses with out a spotter but it was part of his routine and it would throw his whole mojo off if he left the gym without doing his bench presses. He would just use lighter weights. It was nothing he couldn't handle. John let out a sigh as the weights on the machine clanked as he lowered them down. He ran a hand through his sweaty hair and got up from the machine. A new song began to play as he stretched his arms and headed to the bench.

Quit staring damn it! Cena forced his lids to blink over his eyes. He had gotten very little done towards a work out. In fact the only parts of his body that were working out would have to be his eyes that kept running over John's body. Cena forcefully pulled his gaze away and tried to focus on what he had come here to do. He tried to swallow and noticed his mouth had gone bone dry from ogling and getting excited over Hennigan.

He left the machine he had been sitting at and went to a vending machine that had various sports drinks. He opted for a plain old water and unscrewed the top and guzzled some. His eyes tried to remain away from the other man in the room but at last they could keep away no longer.

Cena watched as John's arms pumped up and down. The muscles flexed and contracted sliding and working beautifully beneath his browned skin. His chest rose and fell with each inhale and exhale and sweat beaded on his brow and dripped down the side of his face. Cena leaned against the wall for a few moments trying desperately to stop his mind and eyes from wandering. However, those parts had decided to betray him and soon enough his feet joined in on the mutiny as they carried him over to the bench where John was working.

"Hey…" Cena started in a dry voice. He cleared his throat noisily and then gulped down some more water. "Hey, you're not supposed to do that without a spotter."

Cena smiled down at Hennigan and stood at the head of the bench. He stretched his palms outward ready to help lift the weight if it should grow too heavy. See, you're doing nothing wrong. You're just being his spotter. If he would have dropped the weight on himself you would have felt bad. You had to come over and spot him to make sure he didn't hurt himself.

Hennigan blinked up at the man standing over him. This was not a good time. He closed his eyes to keep his focus on his work out and he continued to pump the weight up and down.

Cena's focus once again drifted from actually spotting Hennigan to just looking over the man's body as his muscles clenched and unclenched with each beautiful motion. The smell of John's body wash mingling with his sweat clouded his senses with desires. His ears heard each quick intake of breath as John brought the weight downwards and then the forceful thrust of the breath out again as he pushed the weight back up. In Cena's mind the breathing reminded him of other times when he had made John pant and breathe forcefully and desperately. Cena closed his eyes remembering the feel of John's body pressing against his, his hot breath on his skin, his hips working, his lips searching…

"John!" Hennigan had opened his eyes and lost all focus. He was looking directly up at John Cena's bulging crotch. There was not much to be left to the imagination as the thin fabric of his gym shorts revealed his hard member. The only thing that hammered through Hennigan's mind was the thought of taking that wanting beast in his mouth and tasting it once again, feeling it throb against his tongue, pleasuring it again. The forgotten weight grew heavy and caused his arms to start shaking. The increasing pressure gradually brought him out of his daze long enough for him to realize the bar was laying across his chest and preventing him from breathing. "John!" He gasped again hoping the other man, who was supposed to be his spotter, would help him out. After Cena remained frozen in his own trance a few moments longer, and Hennigan was sure he was not going to come to his rescue, he tilted the bar to the left and the weights on that end slid of with a bang and clang.

Cena jumped startled out of his fantasy by the clinking and clattering of metal. He looked down to see Hennigan had emptied the weights to either side of the bench and had replaced the empty bar back in its place above the bench. Before Cena could stop he was around the bench straddling it and on top of John. His lips sought desperately at Hennigans and he found them soft and wet and ready. He took them with his own. As he suckled at the soft pink tissue shivers coursed throughout his body. Hennigan's hands pressed against his chest and he mumbled something into Cena's mouth but he could care less what John was trying to say.

Hennigan tried to fight but he was wrapped up in Cena's strong arms and the man's lips plundered his in a way that set off sparks through his whole body. He tried to mumble and tell Cena to stop but his plea had been usurped and muffled by Cena's hot, needy, mouth. John parted his lips to let Cena's tongue have its way with his own. The wet muscle swirled and danced in his mouth pushing and prodding. John slid his tongue past Cena's lips tasting the familiar flavor of them. Soon both tongues were battling for dominance. Cena's body moved against his own and he could feel the throb of his pulsing cock against his. Hennigan moaned and wrapped his legs around John's waist as the man rocked back and forth. Oh fuck, make it stop! Hennigan thought as his mind exploded with chemical pleasures. This isn't supposed to be happening, I said make it stop! He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and points of color danced before them. I said—"Stop!" John panted out in a rough moan. "Oh John, oh please you have to stop!"

Cena moved his kisses down Hennigan's chin and neck and started to bite there. A sudden image of Mike flashed through John's head and he could only imagine him finding a purple hickey on his neck. Things are too good with Mike, I love him, I can't do this again. He pushed hard against Cena's heaving chest.

"Cena, I said no." John's head fell back against the bench and he closed his eyes as sweat rolled down his face and neck.

"Damn it!" Cena hissed and jerked upwards cracking his head hard on the bar. The metal rod rattled as it thuncked against the back of his skull. "Ow!"

Cena slid off of the bench and rubbed his head. He looked down at Hennigan who brought his shaking hands to his brow to wipe away the shimmering perspiration. John sat up and scowled at Cena.

"You are making this hard for me…in more ways than one." He brought the bottom of his shirt up to his face, revealing his tight, glistening abs to Cena in the process, and he wiped his face on the fabric before letting it fall down again over his stomach.

"Uuuh…sorry I'm not trying to." Cena blinked trying to gather his wits about him but his mind was not in full control of his body. Other organs had other plans than what his rational mind would try to follow. Cena picked up his water bottle and splashed himself in the face with it. It did little to cool him down.

"I need to get back to Mike."

"I know." Cena said stupidly, not knowing what else he could say. Hennigan walked away from Cena and out of the gym leaving the bigger man in a horny stupor.

_lol, horny stupor, that just sounds funny. So things got a little heated between the Johns... Please continue to leave reviews for me they're nice and so are you. :) Oh yeah, I may change the title it seems kind of like a dumb title "Discovering Love" but I can't think of anything better yet. If anyone has any suggestions feel free to suggest them. :D_


	11. Chapter 11

_This is kind of short but it's just how it ended up. Thank you to Dark Kaneanite, Divine Arion, and Lichtblick for reviews. :D I will have twelve up later, maybe even thirteen._

Chapter 11

John was rather proud of himself that he turned Cena down. The two could have easily slipped away and fell back to old ways but he had managed to pull away from the situation, despite how good it felt. He thought of Mike before his own lustful desires and that helped him pry away from Cena. But God, the man was sexy. John shook his head in and effort to clear his mind. At least after today the likelihood of him running into Cena would lessen drastically. He and Miz had been on RAW last taping but they would soon be parting ways and heading back to traveling regularly with the ECW bunch. That's just what he needed was more time to be separate from Cena. Perhaps with the separation their longings for each other would decrease even more until at last they fell away completely.

John made his way back across the street and up to the hotel room where Mike was scrounging in his suitcase. He had a towel around his waist and water dripped from his hair and traced paths down his chest and back.

"Nice note." Mike said looking up from his suitcase.

"Yeah, I had to borrow a dictionary to come up with some of those words." John joked and wiped his sweaty face on the back of his hand.

"Um, who did you borrow it from?"

"Kahli."

"What?" Mike paused as he slipped his jeans on. "Is he brushing up on his English?"

"No, he just likes to hit people in the head with it."

The two laughed picturing the Punjabi Giant cracking someone over the head with a massive copy of Webster's Dictionary. They were interrupted by John's phone which played the tag teams entrance music. He looked down at it seeing the name and number flash.

John flipped his phone open and put it to his ear as a mischievous smirk curled Mike's lips. John raised an eyebrow at his partner wondering why that smile had formed. Soon enough, he found out. Mike dropped to his knees and in one motion tugged down John's sweat pants and boxers. John's eyes widened as Mike started to flick his tongue over the end of John's exposed member.

"Sure, yes of course." He said into the phone. He reached a hand down wards and swatted at Mike's head telling him to knock it off. Mike just continued the flick of his tongue for a few more moments and then took the act further by wrapping his lips around the end and swirling his tongue around the head as though making out with it. John squirmed and bit down on his lip. Words from the voice on the line droned on in his ear.

"Hu-Hold on…" John covered his phone with his hand and gasped. "Shit Mike, stop it!"

Mike paid no attention his smirk just curled further as John got harder and harder. John sighed hearing that voice chirping on the phone: Hello, John? John, are you there?

"I'm here!" He barked a little too harshly.

The person on the other line continued on. If Mike didn't stop the caller was going to get a loud moan in his ear. John tried to swat at Mike again to get him to stop his torture. When that didn't work he started to wiggle away. That was a bad idea because his feet were tangled in his pants. However, he didn't fall backwards because before he could wiggle away too much Mike grabbed his hips and thrust them forward. Mike coughed a moment on the verge of gagging as John's cock was thrust deep but the reflex soon passed.

"Oooh Mike, shit!" John clapped his hand over his mouth and bit down on his fingers.

"Um, John…is everything okay?" The caller asked nervously.

"Y-Yeah fi-fine…Mike…oh-oh he dropped the suitcase…on my foot. Oh, fuck!"

"As long as he doesn't drop it on your head." The caller laughed. "Bye John."

"Bye!" John gasped and quickly snapped his phone shut. "You idiot!" He groaned as he gripped Mike's shoulders. He squeezed his eyes shut as Mike used his tongue to caress his throbbing hardness. Soon John came and pulled out and collapsed against the door. He let out a pleased sigh as Mike swallowed and wiped his lips on the back of his hand.

"Don't ever do that again!" John finally gasped.

Mike shrugged.

"Okay…I will never ever, ever, ever do it again."

John reached down to his ankles and pulled his boxers and sweats back up.

"You know what I mean. Not when I'm on the phone." He ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair.

"Who was it anyway?"

"It was…" John cut his sentence off as he started to laugh.

"Who?" Mike prodded as he went to his suitcase, picked out a shirt, and pulled it over his head.

"Vince."

"No way!" Mike yowled with laughter.

"Way." John rolled his eyes as Mike laughed over-amused at the situation.

"You made me fucking moan in his ear!"

"Yes, yes I did." Mike stated proudly as he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. "What did he want anyway?"

"He wants us to come back to RAW next month and stay there to start a feud with Cody and Ted. Then at a pay-per-view they're going to drop the belts to us."

"Awesome!" Mike pumped his fist in the air as John walked past him and into the bathroom to shower.

Not so awesome, John thought to himself. Just when I thought I'd be seeing less of Cena I find out Vince wants to start this thing. John closed his eyes as he stepped under the shower head and felt the cool water trickle over his body. He knew he wanted to be with Mike. Maybe the next month would further wash away his feelings for Cena and by the time the tag-team was back on RAW things would be cooled off. It was either that or he was just going to have to work very hard at avoiding the one man who was able to pull him away.

_Poor John, he's trying really hard and doing pretty good but now he's going to have to step it up even more...or will he give in? Hmmmm...idk Mike cracked me up in this chapter for some reason. My Miz muse is really weird. **Miz Muse**: I want a pet woodchuck! **Wrestlefan4**: Point made. **Miz Muse**: But wouldn't it be cool? It could chuck wood, but how much wood? Wood...hahahaha...wood... **Wrestlefan4**: Miz Muse, shut up plz! (rolls eyes) **Miz Muse**: No_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thank you readers and reviewers :D I wish I was on a beach right now. But I'm not. I'm here! _

Chapter 12

John inhaled the salty scent of the gulf and let the breeze blow his hair back from his face. The squawk of gulls overhead greeted his ears along with the rhythm of the choppy waves breaking on the sand. Mike stood nearby digging his toes into the sugar-white sand and squinting up at the gulls that made lazy circles in the brilliant blue sky.

The duo had a week break before making the switch from ECW to RAW. They decided to spend it on a beach in Florida celebrating their birthdays which were only days apart, John's being the 3rd of October and Mike's being the 8th.

"This is great." John said as he enjoyed the sights, sounds, and scents of the beach.

"Look." Mike pointed up to a rainbow parasail that hung in the sky. A tiny form of a man could be seen hanging onto it as the boat sped through the water lifting the parasail higher and higher. "We have to do that."

"Be my guest, but not me!" John quickly protested and walked towards the gulf that licked at the shimmering sand. Mike stayed gazing at the colorful sail a bit longer and then turned back to John but realized the other man was far ahead of him and making his way towards the gulf. Mike's feet half sank as he ran to catch up and little sprays of sand flew from behind as he trudged along to catch up with John.

"Why not?" He asked when he finally reached John's side.

"If you haven't noticed Michael, it's high." John stooped to pick up a sand dollar.

"So?"

John tossed the white sand dollar to Mike who caught it and he stepped out into the ocean.

"You're going to be shark bait!" Mike called after John. The Shaman of Sexy just turned to him with a smirk and playfully gave him the finger. Mike was soon splashing in the water after him. Soon they were both pulling at each other trying to drag and dunk one another under the waves. Mike pushed John's head under and the guy came up with seaweed cling to his hair and a hangdog expression on his face as his sunglasses hung lopsided from one ear.

"We'll see who's shark bait." John ducked under the water.

"Hey…wha--"

Before Mike could react John gripped his ankles and pulled his feet out from under him. He came up sputtering and speared John who just dragged Mike down with him. Both came up laughing and coughing and spitting salty water.

"I lost my shades." John laughed as Mike jumped on his back in attempt to knock him down again.

"I wanna go on the pretty parasail puh-leeeease!" Mike whined in a child like voice as. He wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and his legs around John's waist piggy-back style. John brought his hands under Mike's knees and pushed upwards causing the man to fall backwards into the water with a splash.

Mike bobbed up from the water and pulled on the back of John's swim trunks in attempt to de-pants him.

"Cheating, cheating! Pulling on the pants!"

"There's no ref out here! Bwa-ha The Mizard has you in his snare!" Mike cackled evilly as he tugged on John's shorts.

"Mike…the waves!"

A heavy wake of waves rolled in and the two disappeared under them for a few moments. John came up with salt stinging at his eyes and he looked around for his partner.

"Mike…Mike?"

"I'm--" Mike coughed out some water. "Here."

"I'm getting hungry, why don't we dry ourselves out and walk down to the boardwalk."

"Oh no!"

"What?" John tilted his head to the side and banged his palm against one side of his head in attempt to knock some water out of his ear.

"My shorts…"

"What about them?" John said grabbing handfuls of his hair and wringing it out. "Mine are full of sand…I'm going to have to do something about that."

"They're AWOL!" Mike shouted. John cracked up laughing and scanned the water to see if he saw some swim trunks floating somewhere on the surface. "Well, then we better get out of here. The fish are going to start nibbling at your worm."

"Hey, don't say that! Where are you going? I can't just walk out of here and bare all!"

"Bye Mike!" John turned and waved with a smirk on his face.

"Jooohn!"

Luckily John came back with a towel to spare Mike from the embarrassment of emerging from the water in his birthday suit. After changing and waiting for John to get his hair right the two went down to the boardwalk and checked out the little shops where John bought some new shades and Mike bought some new swim trunks.

"You should get this." John joked holding up a black speedo.

"Er, no."

John snickered and turned the swimsuit around to reveal it was a thong.

"Heh, did I already say no? No!"

John disappeared into a dressing room and came out donning the thong-bikini.

"You look gay." Mike said through laughter.

"News flash? You, me, unless you changed something down below I think we're both still men. Which would make us--"

"I didn't tell you? I used to be a woman." Mike teased and gave John's butt a pinch. "That looks pretty damn good on you."

"You wish! Ha-ha!" John closed the curtain of his dressing room and changed back to his clothes. When he came back out Mike wore a new t-shirt.

"Like it?"

It was a black t-shirt advertising a local hot-dog stand which just happened to be called "Mike's Foot-Long". The shirt read "Mike's Foot-long" Home of the Big Weiner. Beneath the blue and white words was a dancing hotdog.

"That's priceless!" John pointed. "I think I might have to visit Mike's Foot-Long sometime."

"You probably will. I know how you like your wieners." Mike joked as they exited the shop.

"Yeah…" John leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Hot and juicy."

_I could really see him wearing a shirt like that lol. So, will Mike get to go parasailing before the week is up? It's possible! Leave some words or I'll throw you to the sharks. Eh, not really jk. :D :P_


	13. Chapter 13

_Thank you again for reading and reviewing. Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday. This is one of my favorite chapters so far it's just kind of funny. I can really see Mike acting all hyper and stuff. Lol _

Chapter 13

"We're going parasailing!"

John cracked an eye open to find an overly excited Mike hopping up and down on the bed like a hyper-active puppy. His blue eyes sparkled with anticipation of the event, which to John was a dreaded one. Mike had reasoned that since they were there celebrating their birthdays that they should do one major thing that John wanted to do and one major thing that he wanted to do. So John had finally agreed to go parasailing with him. He grumbled and screwed his fist into his eye and then yawned noisily.

"We're going parasailing!" Mike sang again as he bounced around the room.

"What did you have for breakfast? Sugar laced with cocaine?"

"No." Mike said as he bounced to the French doors and peered out to the ocean where two colorful parasails could already be seen hanging in the sky. "Cocaine laced with sugar."

"I see." John yawned and shuffled off to the bathroom. His plan was to lock himself in there and not come out. Thus Mike's attempt to drag him out into the sky would be thwarted.

Mike waited impatiently as he heard the squeak of the shower doors followed by the hiss and spray of the shower as John turned it on. He looked at the clock above the t.v. after only five minutes and rapped on the door and called to the man within.

"Hurry up!" He did it mostly for the purposes of annoyance because anyone who knew John Hennigan knew that him spending only five minutes in the bathroom to get ready was laughable.

"Shut up Miz!"

Tick, tick, tick, tock. After ten more minutes of fidgeting and waiting Mike returned to the door and knocked again. Inside the bathroom, John rolled his eyes and stepped out of the shower.

"What?" He called to the man who dare disturb him during his bathroom time.

"Hurry up."

"You can't rush sexy!" John called back and wiped steam from the mirror.

"I have to pee!" Mike called from the other side.

"You're full of shit, you're just trying to get me out of here." John combed his hair.

"I'm not full of shit, I'm full of piss! John pleeeease!" Mike whined. "My bladder is going to burst into zillions of pieces and it won't be pretty!"

Bam, bam, bam!

"The Miz has to pizz!"

"Get away from my door!" John tried to ignore the persistent pestering but after about fifteen more minutes he couldn't take it anymore.

"John, please I really, really have to go!"

John opened the door to find Mike crossing his legs with a frantic, stricken, look on his face. However, the look quickly melted away and Mike grabbed John's hand and led him away from the bathroom.

"We're going parasailing!"

"You liar." John accused as he got dressed. Mike feigned innocence.

"Me?"

"You know what happens when you do that? You're nose grows." John pulled on his sandals. "You know, Pinocchio."

"Oh, well that explains it." Mike said as he followed John out the door.

"Explains what?"

"I always wondered why Hunt has a big nose. Now we know."

John was going to be glad to get this parasailing business over with. He had no desire to go flying into the wild blue yonder and Mike was just too thrilled with the whole thing and he was being deliberately annoying. But in a way, it was cute. John followed Mike down the beach and to a pier that stretched out into the gulf like a huge finger sticking itself into the water to test the temperature. John hung back shuffling his feet reluctantly as they neared the boats that were docked there. Mike ran ahead like a gleeful kid.

He watched as Mike was strapped into the thing. He then waved his arms around for John to come join him. John studied the harness skeptically.

"Has anyone ever fallen out of one of these things?" He jerked his thumb at the harness.

"Nah, not as long as I've been doing it." The blonde man said as he spat some tobacco juice.

"How long have you been doing it?"

"A couple months now."

"That's reassuring…" John groaned.

"Come on bwawk-bwawk! John's a chicken!" Mike flapped his elbows around like chicken wings and made loud squawking sounds. "KFC's lookin' for you 'cause you're finger lickin' good chicken!"

The blond man snorted laughter and spat more brownish liquid.

"Alright, alright enough already!" John climbed into the harness and let the guy strap him in. "Make sure it's tight enough!"

"It's good."

"Make it a little tighter." John looked down nervously at the harness around him and prayed it would hold. The man shrugged and tightened the strap until John grimaced in pain.

"That's fine." John croaked.

"If you damage your goodies I'm not going to be very happy." Mike let him know as the blond man climbed into the boat.

"This was your idea!" John hollered. He closed his eyes tight as the boat began to pull away from the dock.

"We're going parasailing!" Mike hooted. "Yay!"

"No shit." John clutched tight to the Mike's arm as his feet lifted up from the pier. "No, no, oh no I want down!" He whimpered as the feeling of nothing but air under his feet terrified him.

"Hey, you have to open your eyes, it's awesome!"

John cracked one eye open and saw the water shimmering and winking far below him. He immediately snapped his eye shut again.

"Make it stop!" He moaned childishly.

"It's not that bad."

"If I die I'm going to kill you!" John shouted and dared to squint his eyes open again. The two drifted higher and higher and John felt like he was going to get sick at any moment. His head spun with dizziness. "If I die I better not get reincarnated into a damn bird!" John yelled even louder. "If I do I'm going to hunt your ass down, peck your eyes out, and then I'm going to dive-bomb my head into a fucking window so I don't have to fly!"

Mike was just cracking up as John hollered like a baby while they flew over the gulf. It was an invigorating experience for Mike but obviously not so much for John. Once the two were back on the pier John made a big to-do about walking back to the beach on wobbling legs and kissing the sand.

"Land!" He dug his hands into the white sand and brought them up letting the grains run through his fingers.

"You're a drama king."

"I can live with that as long as I am a grounded drama king." John plopped down on the sand relieved to be done with the parasailing venture. Mike crawled on top of him as he looked up at the bright sky.

"Thank you for going with me." Mike pressed a kiss to John's lips which were still quivering nervously.

"It was a once in a life time event."

"That's fine." Mike said sitting up and straddling John's lap. "We could always try hang gliding." He smirked. John dumped him off his lap and Mike scurried to his feet to get out of dodge.

"Or I could bury your head in the sand!" John bellowed playfully. Mike sped away down the shore line leaving wet footprints in the sand. John took off after him. Despite his fright over the parasailing he was having an absolutely amazing time. As he ran down the beach after Mike, he realized he never wanted it to end. John Hennigan wanted to spend the rest of his life chasing Mike Mizanin and no one else.

_Let me know what you think plz…I'm off to classes for now. (ggrrrr….) Yeah and I really want to go. Haha…((hugs))_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_Yay! Chapter 14 is here :) Thanks everyone for your reviews: Divine Arion, Dark Kaneanite, and Lichtblick. You guys really crack me up sometimes, Dark Kaneanite said that Miz looked like a hobo with his scarf on ECW the other night yet he looked extremely cute and Divine Arion said that in my story he's a spazoid. Lol, it really cracked me up so I guess he's an extremely cute spazoid hobo. Lmbo __**Miz Muse**__: I am Cu-spaz-bo!_

Chapter 14

It was the last night they would spend on the beach before heading back to the grind of shows and on the road traveling. John had a bad case of the mopes all day as he didn't want to leave behind what had been an amazing week. Mike could agree, he was reluctant to leave too but they had to treasure the memories they made there and get back to the real world that awaited them. Besides, they had a long future ahead of them to make new ones. Mike smiled as he remembered what they had done yesterday. After parasailing on day two, which was what he had wanted to do, they still had to do what John wanted. So yesterday they had surf lessons and it was a blast. John had found he was pretty good at it but Mike however didn't take to it as well and he spent most of his time wiping out and half-drowning himself.

"Hey, cheer up frowny-face." Mike said as he and John walked down the shoreline with arms wrapped around each others waists.

John sighed and looked out over the ocean. He had to be honest with himself, even after he and Mike had renewed their relationship and their sense of closeness he was still worried about going back. He wanted to trust himself to be around Cena but he just couldn't. He had let Mike down before and as much as he didn't want to do it again it still bothered him that Cena may still elicit such feelings of lust within him. He turned his gaze away from the gulf that danced and glimmered with flecks of silver in the moonlight. His warm eyes connected with Mike's piercing blue ones and he saw the love that was there. I don't want to crush that love, John thought to himself and his eyes filled with tears. Mike's eyes widened in alarm.

"John, what's wrong?"

John just looked down at his toes as they moved in the soft sand and he shook his head. Mike stepped in front of John and pulled the man close to him.

"Don't worry about going to RAW."

John blinked at him and a few tears dripped from his eyelashes and slid down his cheek.

"But, how did you know?"

"I was thinking about it too. But I know we're strong now and nothing is going to tear us apart again, right?"

"Y-yes."

Both went silent, surprised at the stutter in John's voice.

"What was that?"

John pulled away and walked a bit down the shore hanging his head. He kicked a shell out of the way and then slumped down to the sand. He sat there with his shoulders sagging and the cool waves licking at his toes. The first thing Mike felt was a twinge of fear grip his heart that John could be doubting. After all of this he was still unsure? His stomach tied itself into sickening knots and his lip quivered at the thought. At last Mike gave a heavy sigh and shoved his hands in his pockets. He trudged up the beach and sat down next to John who was crying. John wiped his nose with a snuffle.

"What was that?" He repeated to John in a whisper.

"I just don't want to hurt you!" John wailed tearfully.

"Then don't!" Now it was Mike's voice that came out sounding wobbly. His heart pounded against his sternum with anxiety as unwanted images flashed through his mind. His brain recalled John and Cena in bed together looking up at him like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Mike shuddered. "I know you don't want to hurt me again John. Don't, please John, don't!"

Tears fell down Mike's cheek as he crawled into John's lap and laid kisses down his face and neck.

"You have my heart in your hands please don't crush it…it's fragile." Mike sobbed as he continued to smother John with affection.

"Mike stop, I don't deserve it!"

"Just tell me I have your heart too." Mike pulled his lips away from John's browned chest and gazed into his swimming eyes. "Do I?" Mike managed to sob out.

"You have my heart!" John cried and pulled Mike back down to him. Mike closed his eyes tight as relief washed over him with those words. John was only afraid of himself because he cared for Mike so much. Mike just had to have faith that their love was enough. What John felt for Cena could be no more than a physical attraction. Mike could understand that, Cena was handsome and laced with hard muscle and brawn, captivating blue eyes, and sexy dimples that deepened when he smiled. Mike knew that John had to care for him deeply. He knew he was no John Cena, Miz would of course boast to no end about how infinitely gorgeous and sexy he was, but when Mike looked in the mirror he saw less than that. If it was simply a matter of physical attraction and looks then Mike knew there would have been no competition and John would have left him for Cena long ago.

John and Mike had often told each other "I love you" but sometimes coming from John the words felt hollow. The two months that had followed the second "incident" John had again spoken those words often and they seemed to grow stronger and stronger. Mike was the kind of person who needed to be reassured of such things. He had to hear the words again and again to make sure it was true: someone actually cared that deeply for him. It seemed nearly surreal and as many times as he had heard it before, hollow sounding or whole-heartedly, tonight on the sand had been the final thing to make it all seem so permanent and unwavering. But, just because it made him feel better…

"John, say it again!"

"You have my heart." John whispered again and again. Tears streaked his face as Mike made love to him. The cool waves licked their toes and the pale face of the moon glowed golden above them watching as their love blossomed under the rustling palms.

_**Miz Muse: **__The Great and powerful Mizard sez leave some reviews plz or I'll dis you on The Dirt Sheet. Well, see ya later, I'm off to find a hobo and steal his fashion accessories. Bwa ha! _


	15. Chapter 15

_This is starting to get a bit hard with three Johns now, yes JBL makes his first appearance in this chapter. I was thinking about making it someone else but JBL muse is very demanding and he got mad and stomped his feet until I put him in. I guess it's just supposed to be this way. Makes for confusion though!! Morrison is John, John Cena is Cena, and JBL is usually Layfield or whatever, he won't be referred to by his first name unless it's really clear to use 'John' for some reason. Sorry…(groans) Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews, mucho loves!!_

Chapter 15

"Whoah!" John caught Mike's arm as he stumbled down some steps at the arena. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just my knee." Mike bent and rubbed at the sore joint. "I tweaked it when we went surfing. It's been acting up a little but it's no big deal."

The two made their way into the arena where the RAW roster was taping that night. John sighed nervously as they entered the locker room. Luckily Cena wasn't there yet. The two changed into their ring-wear and then wandered out into the lobby where Jamie Noble and Santino Marella were playing cards, Batista was on his cell phone, and Cody and Ted were in a corner a bit too friendly with each other. There were constant jokes and rumors buzzing around the locker room about those two but they adamantly and firmly denied any allegations about their "affections" for each other. The two young superstars looked up to see Mike and John and they swaggered towards The Shaman of Sexy and The Chick Magnet to discuss their match.

"Then you're going to do Moonlight Drive on Ted for the finisher?" Cody asked.

"Yeah." John agreed. "Hey, watch Mike's knee tonight."

"My knee is fine, mother." Mike frowned. "The Miz doesn't get hurt." He tilted his fedora and struck a cocky pose.

"You might want to mind his head too. It's got a big soft spot." John teased.

"Where?" Ted laughed.

"All over!" John grabbed Mike's head under his arm and his fedora plopped to the ground. Cody snatched it up immediately and he and Ted ran off with it. John ground his fist into Mike's spikey hair.

"You jerk!" Mike wiggled his head out and took off after the two younger superstars.

"Careful of the knee!" John cupped his hands around his mouth and called to Mike. Miz stopped his mad dash long enough to flip his partner the bird, all in good fun of course.

Cena missed John so bad it was driving him crazy. He had tried over and over again to put the man out of his mind but no matter what he did or who he did it with one thing remained the same: he still wanted John. The last week had been the worst, each night he had awoken from some erotic John Hennigan dream sweaty and panting tangled in his sheets. Tonight John—and of course Mike—were coming to RAW to start a new storyline where they would feud with Cody Rhodes and Ted Dibiase. John could barely contain himself thinking of seeing John again. He was afraid if he watched the match with John his mind would just fog over with desires and he would be in a daze for his own match. But he had to see him. He closed his eyes and imagined once again smelling the maddening scent of his sweaty flesh and tasting the addictive flavor of his lips. Already he was getting turned on and he was merely thinking of the guy. He ran his hands over his sweaty face and groaned.

"Something wrong?" Cody Rhodes stumbled into the bench and banged his shin. "Ow!" He squealed and clutched it and fell back into the lockers with a crash.

"Clutz!" Dibiase Jr. called after him and flew past the two of them and into a stall.

"No, not a thing." Cena propped his foot on the bench and bent to tie his shoe up. "What are you two up to now?"

"We're hiding Miz's hat. Don't tell him!" Cody added with a grin.

Mike bounded into the locker room and marched up to Cody.

"Hand it over."

"Hey, calm down dude! I don't have your silly hat."

"The Miz wants his hat…now!"

"Oh yeah, it's like a four-hundred dollar hat." Ted mocked as he walked out of the shower area and into the locker room.

"Five hundred." Mike corrected.

"Oh, my bad. Five hundred Cody, did you hear that?"

"Well what the fuck did you do with it? Come on guys…"

Ted and Cody just crossed their arms over their chests and wore identical smirks. Mike grumbled as he stormed through the locker room checking here and there for his hat. Cody and Ted left the locker room before he finally discovered his hat—in the toilet.

"This was probably you idea for them to put it in the toilet." Mike mumbled as he past Cena and walked over to the wall where a hand dryer was installed. He pushed the silver button and held his soggy hat under the vent.

"I had nothing to do with it." Cena said quietly. Mike said nothing back just looked down at his dripping fedora. "I didn't have anything to do with your hat." Cena repeated.

"Look, John." Mike started nervously. "Just leave my guy alone okay?"

"Don't threaten me Mizanin." Cena growled in irritation.

"I'm not threatening you, that's laughable. I'm just asking you to have some respect, I thought that was one of the things you used in your motto or did you forget? John and I have something special and it's not going to happen with you and him again so just let us be. Just realize that we love each other and respect it, please?"

"I will." Cena shuffled across the tiled floor and stopped at the door. "You do have someone special."

"Y'know…" JBL started out. "I've heard all sorts of rumors about you and Mike. Is any of it true? Not that it's my business or anything."

"We—I—had some problems but we're back together." John stated dully not wanting to go into any sort of detail with JBL of all people. Why would he care anyway?

John Layfield made a mental note that the rumors had indeed been true. He didn't need to know details but he now had it from the horse's mouth so to speak. He had tried to prod answers from Cena who was the subject of many of the rumors—many of the guys knew about the first affair—it had leaked out when Cena confessed to Randy Orton (well that too was a rumor that Cena nor Orton would confirm or deny, however it would explain the ill feelings between the two that developed not long after the rumors started to fly.) How the second rumors had been leaked out no one really knew or else was not willing to tell. Cena was probably not as dumb the second time around to confess to Orton or anyone else for that matter. In WWE, things just get around one way or the other and most of the time the truth becomes a twisted fantasy morphed more and more another mouth spreads it to another set of burning ears. But although JBL hadn't got his answers from Cena he could deduce from prior knowledge and or rumors that the cause of Hennigan's problem was most likely again John Cena. According to Hennigan the problem had been resolved and he and Mike were now back together.

Layfield knew from experience that lust did not fade so easily. The God of Wrestling would bet a stack of bills that John Hennigan still had embers burning for Cena. As for Cena, well he had been rather grouchy and somber for months now which was not at all his character. But since the RAW roster was informed of the return of The Miz and Morrison Layfield had observed a change in Cena's demeanor. He now seemed distracted, nervous, and a bit high strung like a child at midnight on Christmas Eve.

"You're back together huh." JBL mused to himself. He smiled when he saw Mike approached shaking his fedora. For some reason, beads of water flew from the hat. Layfield watched the movements of the young man heading towards them. He seemed upset but couldn't bring himself to be very angry. Anger wasn't in Mike's personality as much as it was in The Miz's. He seemed more than any thing hurt about something or other.

"So, you got your hat back." Hennigan tugged on the wet item playfully.

"Smells like piss." Mike mumbled. "Idiots, why can't they pick on you?" He slapped John's chest playfully.

"'Cause I don't wear a hat." John said simply stating the obvious. "And because you're so damn cute when you mope."

A smile cracked Mike's pout.

"I'm not moping."

John wrapped his arms around Mike and planted a big sloppy kiss to his lips.

"Yes you are, now stop."

Mike scrubbed his lips on his shirt and John laughed at him. The two walked off down the way bickering playfully. Layfield kept his eyes glued to one of them, because one of them he desired.

_New person added into the mix…what does he have in mind and who does he have his eye on? Poor Mike his hat got a swirly :( and…the ever present question: will John remain true to Mike or…? Reviews plz I eat them up nom nom nom_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Mike's knee was bothering him worse after the match and despite his protests one of the company's doctors was giving it a look over. John fixed his hair once again patting it here and there and giving himself sexy glances in the mirror. The locker room was empty and quiet and he was just waiting for Mike to come in and get his stuff so they could leave. The door clicked as it was opened but the person who walked by and was reflected in the mirror was not Mike. John swallowed hard as the person disappeared behind a row of lockers and after a few moments reappeared nude. He now disappeared into the shower with a squeak of curtain rings and a rustle of the curtain he was gone. John leaned over the sink and sighed heavily. His heart had already started to thud faster. The sound of water raining down on tile greeted his ears along with soft humming.

John found himself creeping on tip toe trying to be as silent as possible, although to him the sound of his heartbeat rushing in his ears was deafening. He pressed himself against the wall and was both excited and dismayed to see that there was a gap where the curtain didn't quite reach across the shower opening. _Just leave, you shouldn't be here looking at him! God, what a fine fucking hunk of man! Are you crazy? Get out of there! Think of Mike! Mike-Mike-Mike-Mike-Mike...Cena..._

His lust took over shoving the screaming voice in his mind to the back of his head where it became muffled and less coherent. His dark eyes roamed over the slicked flesh. John watched as beads of water trickled and dripped over the curves and bunches of Cena's tight muscles that John wanted so desperately to touch, caress, and feel against his body pressing and moving. A runner of sweat slid down John's face as his body was heating up as his mind played out all sorts of things that he longed to do with this man. _You really need to stop. _Just as John was about to force himself away from his guilty pleasure, Cena moved his arm and bumped into his body wash that was on a shelf in the shower. It toppled off and fell skittering to the tiles below and Cena bent to pick it up. Before John could shove his hand into his mouth and bite down on it an animalistic sound burst forth from him and his back slid down the wall. His butt thumped hard onto the tiles where he sat dazed and stupid.

John Cena turned around—which was not the best thing at the moment. He realized he had a spy slinking about the locker room and when he drew back the curtain he saw John Hennigan sitting on the floor looking like a disaster. Said disaster swallowed hard as his eyes roamed over Cena's soapy and naked form. Cena smirked and leaned against the wall.

"Like what you see?" _Why did you do that? Cena thought to himself. You and Mike just had a conversation earlier about respect...remember?_

John pulled himself up and leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I...need...to leave."

"Then leave." Cena said simply. He knew he shouldn't be egging this on and teasing John in such a way. They had both agreed to call their affair off and they were both supposed to be keeping away from each other. Cena truly wanted to leave well enough alone, but at the same time he wanted to push. It was true that Cena didn't want to ruin a relationship if it was avoidable. After all if Hennigan was truly happy with Mike then why should he rip apart love which was something so damn hard to find. Cena felt his face flood with warmth and redness. "Why are you spying on me! God John, get out of here!" Cena snarled and ducked behind the curtain.

"Wait a minute...please?" John hated the way he wanted Cena and he loathed that on some level he did not want to leave but stay and entangle himself in heated, forbidden, passions with the man who kept him straying away again and again.

"What?"

John inched his way towards Cena. His mind was warring with love that wanted to pull him away and lust that wanted to shove him over the edge. John reached out and his trembling fingers slid over Cena's wet skin. The larger man twitched at the touch that he hadn't felt for so long but had longed for desperately. So many things crashed through John Cena's mind as he dragged Hennigan into the shower. Both were impatient and their hands fought over each others bodies moving roughly and greedily. John gasped as hot water poured over his body soaking his clothes. He tried to rid himself of his soaked shirt but the sopping garment only seemed to tangle and get stuck on itself. Meanwhile Cena tugged John's jeans down. Cena's ravenous hands pulled on John's boxers forcing them down too. His nails in a hurry to tear the last barrier away tore through the fabric and as he pulled the boxers down his nails dragged along John's thigh tearing the skin in three long scratches. John thrust his head back cracking it into the tile which sent more pain rocketing through his body. A ragged wail of pleasure flooded the empty room.

He slammed his lips into Cena's taking them with force. Cena stumbled back into shower knob causing it to jar sideways and turn the water painfully hot. He cried out but it was muffled as John's lips assaulted his mouth so desperately and forcefully that Cena's lips were growing raw and swollen. When John finally pulled away from him panting Cena ran his tongue over his aching lips and tasted blood. It only made him want John even more.

"I'm gonna fuck you!" Cena growled and grabbed John's shoulders and shoved him so hard to the other wall of the shower that a few tiles rattled loose and fell onto Hennigan's head. "I'm going to fuck you hard, hard so it hurts, so hard--"

_No, don't do it John don't! _John Hennigan's body raged with the pleasure this man was giving him but that voice was getting louder and louder shouting and screaming at him desperately. _But...but..._ Cena's erection pressed against him so freaking hard and throbbing that it drove him mad. He wanted to feel it inside so badly. _No no no NO!_

"Oh, oh...n-no John..."

"What?"

"No, just stop!"

"Damn it!" Cena hissed. "Damn it John, why the hell not? No one is here! No one knows! Why did you do this if you didn't intend on going through with it!"

"I didn't mean to, it went too far!"

"You didn't mean to lurk around like a sneak and watch me while I showered?"

"No I didn't. It just happened okay?"

Cena glared at the man across from him. He could already feel a frustrated pain building behind his forehead. The silence was heavy and the steam from the shower was nearly suffocating as the two men stared at one another, ones eyes wide full of guilt and shame and the other ones eyes narrowed in aggravation.

Hennigan broke his gaze away first and picked his sopping clothes up from the tiles. He left the shower where Cena was grumbling and contemplating punching the tile before taking care of the thing between his legs which was still on fire and confused about why it was getting no relief. John tried to take care of his similar problem by ignoring it for the moment and leaning over the sink to wring out his sopping clothes. He stuffed the soggy articles in his bag and changed back into his Morrison pants because he had nothing else to wear.

After a few more minutes in the shower Cena cleared out, but not before stomping and huffing around the room and slamming the door on his way out. As Cena stormed down the hallway he passed JBL who watched intently wondering what had set the young man off. Judging from the damp towel draped around his neck and the beads of water rolling from his short hair and down his jaw, JBL deduced that the young man had been showering. Having an idea of what it may be that had set the younger man off, Layfield headed back the way Cena had came.

Layfield walked into the locker room to see Hennigan still in his ring wear sitting slumped and sad looking. The so caleld Shaman of Sexy barely nodded as Mike talked to him while he changed from his chick magnet get up. JBL glanced down at John's head as he walked past the young man. Interesting, his hair was soaked. Well that made it easy to see what had happened. Obviously the two young Johns got a little hot in the shower but judging from Cena's disgruntled display it had stopped at heavy petting. Noting John's posture he figured that at the last moment Hennigan had became burdened with guilt at the thought of once again cheating on his lover and so he had put a stop to the act. It was almost funny to JBL that Mike seemed to be oblivious to everything. He was so naive, pitifully so. Wouldn't some sort of alarm bells go off if he noticed his lover showered but back in his sweaty ring gear? Wouldn't it at least raise some questioning?

"Hey, have you guys seen a cell phone in here? I think I misplaced mine somewhere." Layfield asked giving himself some 'reason' to be in there. John shook his head from side to side dully. Mike shut his locker and slung his bag over his shoulder.

"No." Mike cocked his head at John as he now noticed something was out of place. "What happened to your clothes?"

"Someone stole them while I was in the shower and stuffed them in the toilet." John muttered.

"Probably Rhodes and Dibiase." Mike snarled. "Punks."

_Wow, will Mike find those scratches that Cena left on his lover? What is JBL up to…other than being creepy. So is this finally the end for Cena/John? I can't wait to start working on the next chapter, in fact I think I'm going to work on it tonight. I can't promise I'll have it posted tonight but if not it will certainly be up tomorrow! Thank you for taking time to read and hopefully review! _

_**Miz Muse**__: I'm sad so sad…I'm a loser. _

_**Wrestlefan4**__: Aw my poor sweet silly Miz Muse! :( ((huggles))_

_**Miz Muse**__: (sniffles, wipes tear, smiles) I got huggles! :)_


	17. Chapter 17

_Sorry for the lag in updates. School and being sick is to blame. Thank you to my wonderful readers and reviewers. _

_Miz Muse: Thank you! ((hugs))_

Chapter 17

John couldn't sleep after what had happened. Sure, it didn't go all the way but it went too far. Just peeking at Cena took things too far. _If thine eye offends thee, pluck it out._ John stared through the shadows at his finger that was curled in front of his face like a hook. He wondered how much it would hurt to gouge his idiot eyes out. The room was aglow only with a small lamp that stood on the table and cast a yellow circle onto the ceiling. Outside darkness hugged the building and crept up close and cold around the windows. John shuddered when he felt a slight draft. This room isn't the only thing that's cold. My heart must be cold if I can treat Mike this way. John closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows. Mike let out a soft sound in his sleep and moved pulling some of the covers away with him.

John turned and watched his sleeping form for a few moments. Words bubbled up inside of him and he just wanted to burst out and confess to Mike what had happened and get it out. At the same time he was afraid of the reaction. Not that Mike would get angry at him, that wasn't his way. The reaction he was afraid of was the hurt that he would see reflected in Mike's blue eyes. It was hurt that was becoming too familiar. Guilt tossed his stomach around like a buoy sloshing up and down in a churning ocean. The shame crept up his throat making him feel dizzy and nauseas but he swallowed it back down. His mind drifted back to the night he had found Mike at the bar after he had been caught with Cena. Mike had asked him "why?" and that was a question John had asked himself many times. He pretended not to know the answer to it himself but very deep down he did know. John was afraid of being committed completely, fully, forever. _Forever…for always…_

What made it scarier was that he had never really thought about it until he and Mike had formed a relationship. The moment he had realized that he loved Mike had not been one of great bliss and ecstasy as one would imagine. It was one of fear and panic. _Oh my God, I am in love with this man._

That had been a few years ago and at least the fear had dulled to an anxiety that only popped up once in a while if the moment was right. It was true he had lusted for Cena he wasn't going to try to throw that out of the picture just to put ease to his guilt, but there was more than that. When he was with Cena he became unattached from any sort of deep or meaningful connection. For a short time he didn't have to be afraid to love someone, because Cena wasn't asking to be loved. But when it was all over the first thing that washed over him was guilt because no matter what he did he couldn't make his heart stop loving Michael Mizanin.

Mike whimpered next to him and moved fitfully.

It would be more fit if Mike was the one who stopped loving him. In John's eyes Mike should have kicked him to the curb a long time ago but he didn't. _Is that what you want John? You want him to kick you away? Why don't you just tell him your fears? _

He tried to tell himself he didn't wan to hurt Mike, that was his reasoning and it was true, but wasn't his cheating hurting Mike? So why not discuss the fear? _Because you don't want to face it, it's that simple and selfish._

John closed his eyes and tried to shut up all the thoughts that swirled there. He focused on the intermittent sound of traffic zooming along on the highway outside hoping that would drown out his thoughts. Instead something else wiggled its way in there. Someone somewhere in the hotel had a radio on despite the odd time of night. The tune of the song came to John's ears a bit muffled but yet the words were clear enough to make out.

_Baby I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time  
And maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time  
You hung me on a line  
Maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you_

The lyrics disappeared into an amazing guitar solo but that too shortly disappeared when there was some loud banging, obviously someone didn't enjoy the music. It was then when the music stopped and his concentration was broken that he noticed Mike still in a fit and making a tangled mess of the sheets.

Maybe I'm a man and maybe I'm a lonely man  
Who's in the middle of something  
That he dosen't really understand  
Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only one  
Who could ever help me  
Baby won't you help to me understand

"Mike, wake up…"

"Don't leave!" The sleeping man shrieked. "Where are you? Where are you!"

"Mike, wake up!" John yelled louder and Mike sat up suddenly opening his eyes and turning to John. When he saw that John was still there and not gone like in his dream he latched onto him and squeezed.

"You're squishing me." John coughed out. Mike pulled away reluctantly. Even though it was only a dream his face was slicked with sweat from the fear it put him in and his pretty blue eyes swam. It wasn't the first time he had that same dream. It was reoccuring since the first time he had found out about John's unfaithfulness. That stupid dream was causing him to sit in the bed in a shivering wreck. He felt silly and embarrassed by his outburst and his emotions and his cheeks warmed red.

"Sorry." Mike mumbled.

"What was it? I mean the dream…"

"Nothing." Mike felt so stupid but he couldn't keep his tears from falling. He brushed them away feeling ashamed of them. Pieces of the dream still lingered and he could almost hear his own frantic cries as he searched for John who had left him all alone. _Stop it!_ Mike told himself. _What are you a little boy afraid of the dark?_

"What was it?" John pushed. He felt that he probably knew already from Mike's outburst. Guilt gnawed at him that his actions were causing Mike so much torment and pain.

"Nothing...just be close to me okay?" Mike pulled John on top of him and now it was John's turn to be horrified. What was he to do? He still had those scratches. His mind raced and his heart pounded quicker and quicker as he looked into Mike's unsure eyes. _If you would be a good guy and not go roaming all the time then you wouldn't have to worry about hiding scratches or reassuring your scared boyfriend._ John felt like he might get sick. Images of Cena and the things they had done passed through his mind making him feel worse and worse for the things he had done.

"Mike…not…now."

"B-but why?" More tears leaked from Mike's eyes. "Please?" He whimpered.

John didn't know what to do. This was not just some request for sex it was much more than that. It was a deeper need than physicality. If John said no then Mike would take it as a rejection. It would only add to his anxieties. John could probably get away with hiding the scratches all he would have to do was make sure Mike didn't touch him. The room was dark so he didn't have to worry about Mike actually seeing them. But he, John Hennigan, knew they were there. He wasn't sure if he could take anymore guilt. He was tired of hiding and feeling torn from his love of Mike by his lusts and fears. He didn't want to just hide under the covers and blatantly deceive his lover. But if he just came clean and told Mike that would not go well either. He was already upset from that dream. He was looking for reassurance not a confession that John had once again found himself in an inappropriate situation with Cena.

Mike's quivering hands traced over John's shoulders. The longer John stared down at him with that unsure look in his eyes the more frantic Mike's thoughts became and he thought of Cena. John Cena slinking around with his boyfriend, John Cena kissing his John, John Cena holding the man he was holding, John Cena touching him, fucking him, again and again until he won and Mike was left holding onto nothing, _nothing_.

"Y-you…don't want to be close to me do you?" Mike's voice came out in barely a whisper.

"I do. I want to be close to you more than anything." John pressed a kiss to Mike's sweat slimed forehead.

"Stop lying to me." Mike's words quivered unsteadily with the tears that threatened.

"I'm not lying to you. I'm not lying to you anymore about anything." John closed his eyes for a moment thinking of how he should say it and wishing that he wouldn't have to see what it would do to Mike. John took a deep, shaky, breath. He let it out slowly and then went on. "That's why I…I have to tell you something."

_I'm evil for leaving it here, I know. What will happen???!! Thanks to all for reading! Please drop me a line or two. ((hugs))_


	18. Chapter 18

_Thank you to the loyal readers and reviewers of this story. :) sorry for the long lag in updates. _

Chapter 18

John's mouth moved a few times wordlessly. What he wanted to say was there but his voice would not work. He balled his hand into a fist and glared down at it in pause. Mike waited in fear of what he was going to hear. His heart began to flutter as panic tried to rise up and he leaned back on his pillows feeling dizzy. He willed himself to calm down. He was probably severely overacting to anything John could possibly have to say. But then again, John had cheated on him multiple times and whatever his partner was trying to say he was struggling with it.

"You don't have to tell me anything." Mike grabbed John's chin and kissed him hoping to distract him from whatever he wanted to tell him. He had a very nagging feeling that it was nothing too good and he just wanted to push it under the rug—whatever it was—and pretend it didn't exist. He couldn't allow things to slip away from him when it was all going so well. His mind took him back to the night on the beach and as he pressed harder into the kiss and climbed atop John. He could almost feel the sand clinging to his feet and the cool, salty, air licking his toes. He knew that John loved him. That night on the beach had been the most amazing moment in his life and although even Mike new he could be accused of being naïve and/or gullible, he knew in his heart that the words John said to him that night were not untruths.

Mike lost his fingers in John's sweaty hair and his unique and comforting scent. Make love to him and it will all disappear. Whatever is bugging John will be relieved and you'll never have to know. Mike was happy to live in ignorance if it meant John would be by his side. That's all that mattered. Mike nudged his lovers' lips apart and soon their tongues were dancing and slipping together pushing and prodding for dominance. He felt John's hands pushing against his chest in a gesture that should signal him to stop but Mike refused. If he pulled away John would start blabbering and Mike was intent on not hearing whatever it was.

John managed to pry his lips momentarily from Mike's. He did it in most part out of necessity to breathe for a moment but he also needed to tell Mike before things went any further. However if his mind wasn't confused before, it was now. It seemed that his brain was now trudging along in slow motion. Mike had derailed his thoughts by climbing on him and getting him very turned on. _Maybe it was the rush of blood away from my brain to…_John almost laughed at that thought. Before he could do much of anything—think, laugh, or just pant for a while—Mike recaptured his lips and his hands roamed downward.

_No, no God no! _

Mike pulled away John's boxer shorts. In a frantic moment of panic John attempted to roll Mike onto his back to gain control of the situation. However that didn't go as planned. Mike crashed over the edge of the bed and dragged John with him. The nightstand jarred sending the lamp toppling to the floor. The shade was knocked ajar sending bright light onto the two men.

"Why'd you do that?" Mike pulled him self from beneath John and rubbed the back of his head. He stopped frozen when he saw the reason.

"B-b-because Mike, we need to-to talk." John stammered as he saw Mike's face register alarm.

"No, no…no!" Mike scrambled to his feet. Panic overwhelmed him and he felt faint as pieces of the earlier, reoccurring, dream crashed against his skull causing his head to swim with pain.

"Mike, please hear me out!" John wailed with his dark eyes on the verge of tears. He grabbed Mike's wrist in attempt to pull him back down or at leas keep him from running off in a state of hysterics.

"Let go of me!" Mike screamed as a gush of tears drenched his face. He was horrified at seeing those scratches and knowing who put them there. What terrified him just as much was that he had lost control over himself as well. His chest tightened to the point he could scarcely breathe and he was trembling so hard he could barely stand. All the while John was on his knees bawling up at him and griping his wrist. Mike pulled hard as he could trying more and more desperately to free himself. His stomach tied itself into painful knots as other worse thoughts began to take the place of the fragmented memories of his dream. _He did it again…he did it again what's wrong with you he did it again look at those marks he put them there he put them there because John went to him again. He put them there because you didn't, he put them there because you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, now he's going to leave. That's what he wanted to tell you he's going to leave because of Cena, he's going to leave because of you! He's going to leave and you are going to be alone! You'll be alone alone alone forever because look at you, you can't even keep your man happy. You can't even please him! What kind of lover are you? What kind of dumbass are you? You are going to be alone! Look at the scratches, look at them, look at them!_

"Please Mike, please let me explain! I stopped it, nothing happened I stopped before anything happened! Please calm down Mike please, please just let me explain! I do love you, I do that's why I stopped!" John sobbed out his words holding to Mike's wrist and looking into his terrified blue eyes knowing Mike was hearing none of it. He was just trying so frantically to get out of John's grasp and at last his grip slipped and Mike fell backwards tripping over the fallen lamp. He let out a whimper of pain having twisted the knee that had already been bothered from surfing while on their vacation.

"Mike please calm down please get a hold of yourself!" John pleaded. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't even have been near him but…I stopped it because I love you! I stopped it doesn't that mean anything? Doesn't it mean something?"

John tossed the lamp aside and crawled closer to Mike just wanting to hold him and calm him down and explain but Mike got to his feet. He limped to the bathroom where he locked the door.

John slammed his fists onto the door enraged at his self. His attacking fists sent shudders through the offending door and the whole wall. He was so fucking angry at himself, sure he stopped from having sex with Cena, but that didn't change the fact he was naked in the shower with Cena and wanting him very badly. If he was with Mike he should want Mike and no one else.

"You fucking idiot!" John yelled at the top of his lungs, prompting someone upstairs to bang on their floor in annoyance at the loud commotion going on downstairs. John turned his snarling face up to the ceiling and shook his fist at it. "Shut up! Just shut up and go to hell!" He screamed at whoever was up there. He soon turned his attention back to the door by grabbing the knob with both hands and jerking it until it actually bent. After that didn't work he felt spent, both physically and emotionally. He turned his back to the door and slid down it. He rested his head back against it and wept quietly to himself as he heard a distraught Mike dry heaving.

In the next room was John Layfield. He smiled as he listened to what sounded to be a very unhappy John Hennigan bellowing and pounding on the walls or a door.

"Music to my ears." The older man said aloud. He figured that he had been right about earlier, that John had indeed relapsed on his drug of choice which was John Cena. Now that secret little venture had come out one way or the other and the two lovers were fighting. No, probably not fighting. Mike was not one to get angry and start into an argument. In fact, he hadn't heard Mike's voice raised in any sort of battle with John's. Mike's way was to go over the edge and freak out to the point of throwing himself into a panic attack or a state of clutching his knees to his chest and rocking back and forth in blithering sobs. The mental image made Layfield smirk, nearly laugh, and it also kind of turned him on.

He couldn't wait to see the two of them in the morning…hoping they didn't make up before morning, which seemed unlikely. Mike had already over looked being screwed around on twice and a third time would probably not lend itself to easy reconciliation which was all fine for Layfield who hoped to step in the moment he saw—or if push came to shove the moment he made—his opening. Then again, Mike was a very needy and dependent person and so he may just be pathetic enough to keep clinging to John. Some people would rather be destroyed by the thing they love rather than letting it go. This seemed to be Mike. The fact that John's stepping out on him had such an impact on him didn't seem to matter.

From the beginning Layfield had noticed and made a mental note of Mike's true nature and personality, which was so much different than the one he portrayed as 'The Miz'. Layfiled recognized early on that Mike would be an easy target and someone he could easily own and manipulate. However he had never gotten the chance to find out because John Hennigan had interfered by causing Mike to fall head over heels in love with him. But in the end it seemed things were only working out better for Layfield. Mike was worse off than he had ever been before thanks to his lover's roaming tendencies. People in the locker room had tried to be kind and quiet but the fact was most had noticed Mike change more and more after each devastating blow from his lover. His shoulders sagged a bit more, he became quieter, he picked up weird nervous habits, he became increasingly clingy to John to the point where it seemed he had a phobia of being without his partner for mere moments.

When the two had came back from their week hiatus Layfield had been briefly afraid that his plans had been thwarted. Mike had been at his best and exuberantly happy—except for when Rhodes and Dibiase hijacked his fedora and doused it in the toilet—but something had obviously happened on that vacation that had drawn John and Mike closer. Something had happened to cause Mike to feel secure and he was carrying himself stronger and his eyes were more prone to sparkling with happiness than twitching around nervously.

Layfield decided to give it time and see if things continued on in that direction or if John screwed up again and sent it all into a backslide. Layfield had been surprised that it had happened so soon, but it was good for him. It only meant that Mike—and he and John's relationship—was becoming more and more fragile. When one or both of them broke, John Layfield would be there to play with the pieces.

_Oh, poor Mike and poor John. What drama and angst they have…and Layfield??? He is slightly evil isn't he? Please let me know what you thought of the latest update. (hugs!)_

_**Miz Muse—**_I feel so depressed after this…(wipes tear)

_**Wrestlefan4—**_Yeah me too, so maybe I should update Silly Style! Yay!

_**Miz Muse**_—No no no, you are supposed to cuddle me! Hey, where are you going?!? Cuddle me damn it!!


	19. Chapter 19

_Thank you to everyone who is reading this fic, I hope you are all enjoying it despite the major angst in it. Thank you very much for your reviews too! :)_

Chapter 19

John sat staring down into his coffee. His eyes had been unfocused on it, looking past it, deep into his problems for so long that when he did finally blink himself back into reality and raise the cup to his lips, the brown liquid was cold. John grimaced. He could barely tolerate coffee as it was but cold coffee was just short of vomit-inducing. Too bad for him he needed it. He hadn't slept all night. He had spent most of the night leaning against the bathroom door and listening to Mike whimper and crying on the other side of it. Occasionally a dry retching sound from the man holed up in the bathroom reached his ears and each time it made John's eyes water. He hated knowing that he was causing that sort of pain to Mike but he tried to tell himself that everything that had happened must be for the best.

After much consideration John came to the conclusion that this was finally the point at which he and Mike were done for good. Last night John had grabbed Mike's wrist and begged him. He had tried to plead his case by reassuring Mike that he had stopped before going all the way with Cena. The truth was he had stopped because despite the fear it elicited in him, and despite his idiotic behavior, he loved Mike Mizanin. The problem was that he had already done too much damage to his partner. It was a very old cliché but John reasoned that when you love someone, sometimes you really do have to let them go.

The more he thought about it the better he thought it would be. He wasn't sure where he would go or what he would do. After last night the thought of Cena seemed laughable and absurd. At this point he had no desire to be with that man. _Nice John, wait and drop your feelings for Cena after you already fucked up your relationship with Mike. Hell you are a sorry-ass idiot._

Maybe John needed time to collect his thoughts and feelings, maybe he needed to be alone for a while. In any event it didn't really matter to him as much what he needed in hi own life, he cared more about what Mike needed…or didn't need…which was him. Mike needed time to repair himself and heal from the crap John had dragged him through. John realized Mike had never really done that before he had just forgave so quickly and responded to John's roaming by clinging ever tighter to him and becoming at times agitated to the point of being nearly phobic of John leaving him.

The anxieties were not the only things that John found disturbing but how Mike blamed himself and his self-worth became close to non-existent. John remembered the first time he had been caught messing around with Cena. Mike was devastated, as he had every right to be, but had surprised John by 'getting over it quickly'. John had soon realized Mike was not really over it but had just wanted to make sure the relationship was not going to end. After the quick apology Mike had bombarded him with sex to the point that it completely confused John. If he said no then Mike drifted around in a depressed state for days. John had finally had a 'duh' moment when he realized what was going on, that Mike was blaming himself for the cheating and felt like a failure. He was trying to make up for it and when John said 'no' it was as though he were saying 'I don't want you you're not good enough'. John set about the task of encouraging his partner and building him back up to the person he had first met and fallen in love with. Things had been going pretty well until old habits picked up again and John fell back to sneaking around with Cena, which Mike once again discovered.

The same cycle repeated itself. John closed his eyes and thought about the beach. That time had been nearly perfect…if only it could have lasted forever. _Well, maybe not quite forever._ Despite that he knew he loved Mike that stupid word still gave him shivers. _No, I think that one little moment really could have lasted forever…I think I could have been okay with that._ Tears burned at his eyes and anger burned at his heart, he was angry with himself. Even though he felt that anger he still knew he was doing the right thing. For Mike's well being he had to break this once and for all.

John ambled around to the coffee pot and poured more of the vile liquid into his half drained mug. At least that would warm it up a bit.

Mike woke up and wished he hadn't. His head and eyes ached from crying and his stomach hurt from trying to eject itself from his body. His stupid knee which he tweaked once again falling over that damned lamp was stiff and when he managed enough strength to try to straighten it, it protested with a good jolt of pain. But all of that physical pain was over ridden by a heaviness that seemed to press him to the bathroom floor so he had no chance of ever escaping. He didn't really want to move at all but found that he was struggling to stand up anyway. He must have had some sort of will left, but it was stupid as hell.

Mike leaned against the vanity feeling the room spin and sway in a manner that made him feel like he'd been on an alcoholic binge. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea? He squinted his reddened eyes against the light and dragged himself out of the bathroom.

John had his back turned and he was messing with the coffee pot. Mike tore his eyes away from him and looked around the room noting that everything was exactly as it had been the night before. John hadn't slept in the bed because the covers still spilled over one side where they had tumbled off. The pillows were still the same, John's still rested against the headboard where he had been propped up before Mike had woke up from his terrible dream. The lamp was still overturned on the floor, the shade tilted upwards revealing the cold bulb underneath like a lady fallen with her skirt up.

_What do I do now?_ Came Mike's thought rising up from the fog of his brain. He didn't want to think he just wanted to curl up somewhere and be dead to the world for, eh, a few years or so…but that was unlikely. John's voice echoed through his head dripping with emotion as he pleaded for Mike. _He's really sorry, and look wasn't it good? He didn't have sex with Cena, he stopped it! Shouldn't that make you proud of him? Shouldn't it show you he's changed? What are you down about shouldn't you be happy?_

Maybe that was right, he wanted to feel that way, he wanted that to be true but he couldn't shake the negativity weighing down on him. How did he know John had really stopped it? He'd lied to him before, he'd promised him before, it could be just another deception. But somewhere on some level he knew that was not true. Last night was different than any other John Hennigan apology…but something else was nagging at him.

He was still hurt that John had even came close to being with Cena again after such a heartfelt expression of love on the beach, then John just pushed that aside for one hot shower with Cena? _John…doesn't love me or he wouldn't do that!_ Mike didn't really want to think about that either because he wanted to believe that John did truly love him despite his lapses in judgment. Beyond however there was still something more, it was the old anxiety that never seemed to go away, no it only grew worse as time dragged on and laughed at Mike with every cruel twist and turn. There was still the biggest thing tying him to John and that was that he did not, could not, be alone. He was not sure why that concept scared him so badly, it was not as though he had always had someone else alongside him, he had spent enough time alone and had survived it. Now the mere thought of it sent his hands to trembling, like now.

Mike restrained the urge to growl at his hands and instead just sighed feeling like a complete freaking loser, and perhaps a mental case, and an over all reject. _Take a hint dumb-ass, John doesn't want you…why would he?_ A million answers to that question pounded through his head. He dragged himself across the room and sat down at the small table.

John turned back to the table with his coffee in hand and froze when he caught sight of Mike. The guy looked like hell. The first thing John wanted to do was just grab him and hold him and drown him with apologies. He knew that would be wrong, he would only be encouraging Mike to latch back onto him again and John had already decided that was not going to happen again. It was for the best of both of them. However when he sat down across from Mike and tried to figure how exactly to say this to him his stomach turned fitfully.

"John…I'm…really confused." Mike choked out. His voice sounded harsh and raspy from too much sobbing the night before. John pushed his coffee across the table and Mike looked up at John and then took the cup timidly and offered a mumbled thank you.

"I'm sor--" John caught himself and stopped. He knew he couldn't apologize because that would give Mike a foothold to get back in and he couldn't let him do that. "I'm sorta thinking that…" _You have to say it John, you have to. _"I think we should call it quits."

Silence hung thick in the room for what seemed like forever. Mike clutched the coffee cup so tight his knuckles blanched white. All the while his head was hung down as though he was ashamed of something and would not look at John directly. At last Mike sighed and it was such a hollow sound, like wind rustling brown leaves on a dead tree. His whole body seemed to tremble with the sigh and when it had finally passed, as though it had been some entity of its own, Mike brought his eyes up a bit and twitched them around not wanting to hold John's gaze.

"What am I going to do?"

He immediately dropped his eyes down again and John could see that his face was burning red. Mike knew that he had just sounded so pathetic…but all he really wanted was to still hold on to the scraps of a relationship that no longer was. _Where did I go wrong? Why couldn't I keep John satisfied and happy? What's wrong with me?_ Fucking loser.

"I think you need time to…to heal because…" John's voice wavered and he paused to still it. "Because I fucked everything up, no I took things beyond fucked up and I hurt you, not once but again and again. But I think the truth is neither one of us is ready for a serious relationship. We both have issues to work out."

In some kind of last ditch effort Mike brought up something else that would be greatly affected by the dissolving of their relationship.

"What about Miz and Morrison? I mean, we just got matching outfits right?" Mike tried to force some sort of humor but it was too awkward and it just fell out of his mouth kind of stupid and meaningless.

"Mike and John are more important." John ran a hand through his messy hair and shrugged. "I don't know, guess we'll have to talk to the McMahon's and see what creative can do. We have to…part ways with everything or else there might be temptation to go back to each other and…that's just not what either one of us need right now."

Already Mike could feel his mind wanting to scream, his nerves wanting to snap, he was trembling again. He knew that very soon he was going to be alone. Panic was readying for its attack, the tips of its fingers were just beginning to sink in.

"Okay." Was all Mike could say. "Need to get some air."

Layfield whistled to himself as he checked out at the desk. He shouldered one of his bags and towed the other one behind him. He noticed Adam and Michelle lounging on a couch in the lobby wrapped in each others arms. He smirked remembering a time not so long ago when Mark had gone ape-shit on the two of them and for good reason. Adam had dropped he diva onto a table, tore her shirt off, and made out with her chest right in front of her ex. It goes without saying that ended poorly for Adam and Michelle.

He walked past those two and headed out the double doors and was going to head towards his limo when something stopped him. That was the sight of a young man who was slouched over on a bench. Upon further squinting Layfield realized that it was Mike—he looked like hell. Layfield sensed an opportunity and veered from his former direction to his limo to his new direction which was toward the young man.

"Hi there Mike." Layfield greeted the younger man as he lowered his tall frame onto the bench. He got no reply. He took some time to simply study the younger mans posture, expression, the way his eyes moved, the way he held his hands, all of his body language which conveyed a jumble of emotions: fear, sadness, emptiness, loneliness, guilt, confusion, and just a general vibe of 'I feel like crap'. Somehow Layfield knew without asking that everything between John and Mike had ended.

"Mike, are you okay?" Layfield asked the necessary question to gain a foothold for conversation but it was by all means the dumbest question in the world, of course he wasn't okay look at him, but the question had to be asked for all practical purposes. Layfield waited patiently to see if he would get an answer. If not it was easy, he just had to say the right things and show the right emotions. He couldn't seem curious, that would be inappropriate, and he couldn't smirk at Mike's obvious pain which would have been his natural reaction. Luckily, Layfield was very good at deceit, well he like to call it acting, that way it seemed a little less evil. Inwardly he smirked to himself but on the outside he showed all signs of a genuine concern. He touched a hand lightly to Mike's trembling shoulder and asked another question that he already knew the answer to. It was all a matter of hitting the right spot that would cause Mike to take just one more step towards desperation and when he fell to Layfield with that desperation, Layfield would be there with all the perfect things to do and say…just like fishing. You have to know what bait to use to catch the fish you want. "Something happened between you and John didn't it?"

Mike nodded reluctantly acknowledging it. He wasn't sure why, it was none of Layfield's business…but he was here next to him rather than nothingness and just that offered some slight shred of comfort.

"He doesn't want you anymore." Layfield drew his face into a scowl and put a bit of anger to his words as if to insinuate _he doesn't want you anymore, the ass!_ Ta-da! The right spot was hit, Layfield could tell that immediately. This simple utterance of those words aloud was enough to cause the other man to finally give way entirely. Layfield was so pleased with himself but he could save his pat on the back for later, now he had to keep the smirk away from his face and continue to show his 'sympathy' and 'concern' for the man next to him.

Suddenly, Mike felt as though he had no strength left in him. Hearing those words aloud and confirmed by someone else was just the final twist of the knife. He crumpled over onto John, not caring it was him or who it was just thankful that someone was there to hold him up, because he couldn't do it himself.

_Reviews please!!! So, John and Mike finally called it off…what's next for these two?_


	20. Chapter 20

_Thank you to my reviewers: Nefatiri, Litchblick, Divine Arion, and Dark Kaneanite. Your reviews are appreciated very much! Next update though it's a bit shorter than the last._

Chapter 20

The quiet, soft, hum of the car along the highway lulled Mike to sleep. He felt so heavy with too many burdens that his mind and body just collapsed under it all and pulled the plug. He was in a deep, silent sleep, leaned up against Layfield, the warmth of the other man giving him comfort.

Layfield wrapped his arm around Mike's sagging shoulders and made him comfortable. That was what he needed to do just now, make Mike comfortable. He had to play sweet to begin with if he was to get Mike in the relationship he desired. _Come here little boy, I have some candy for you…_

It was just like how Layfield got him to ride with him. It was so very easy. He just had to say the right words and he had Mike doing what he wanted. It was just like moving a piece around a chessboard, you just had to make sure you nudged him the right way without him really knowing it.

"_Well, I know we don't know each other too well, but if you want to you can ride with me to the next show…unless you want to be alone. Sometimes we just need to be alone."_

He knew exactly what to say. He had been a silent observer for so long just watching Mike, getting the idea of his personality, his nuances, the way other people affected him, the way certain words affected him, it was all too easy. Mike was terrified of being alone, it brought him close to having a nervous fit, so all Layfield had to do was use that one little word in the right way and Mike would fall into his plan as though he was being pulled around by a looming, laughing, puppet master. John had to remind himself that he couldn't yet show that side of himself to Mike. He had to be cunning and patient.

_Come on little boy, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to give you some candy, so sweet, just want to give you some candy._

Layfield imagined kissing Mike feircely, feeling the skin of the younger mans lips tear beneath his, the painful click of teeth banging into each other, his hands rough and violent as they elicited cries from demure little Mike Mizanin…but that was not going to happen so soon so he might as well place those thoughts from his mind. He was good at being patient and playing games. It didn't bother him or drive him mad with lust that he couldn't yet have his way with Mike. It was simply a fact and something Layfield understood. He needed to have Mike exactly how he wanted him so it would take time and soft words, _planned_ words, caring gestures, things that were out of character for Layfield but things he had no trouble faking.

_I wont hurt you little boy, I'm a nice man, I just want to give you some sweet candy. Come on, it's just as sweet as it can be._

An image of a beat up van materialized in Layfields head and he imagine himself as the driver, leaning out the window with a colorful lollipop in his hands and the nicest, warmest, smile on his face. He was looking down upon Mike who blinked his large, wonderfully naïve blue eyes up at him. Timid little Mikey was cautious at first but then reached his hand upward trusting, smiling brightly at the glittering lollipop, the glittering words and touches and promises that were just so sweet and so perfect...John was brought out of his thoughts when Mike stirred. The guy had been sleeping like the dead nearly in Layfield's lap.

"Hey sleepin' beauty. You awake?"

"Wh-what?" Mike sat up rubbing his eyes. He had nearly forgotten where he was or who he was with. The stress of recent events just kind of made everything go black and shut down for a few hours. Believe it or not, just being out cold for a few hours had done a great deal at making him feel better, though he still hurt more than he ever knew he was capable of hurting. He just felt painful like a raw wound, one that scabbed over occasionally but was always busted open again leaking fresh blood. It never really healed just got picked again and again.

"It's just me." Layfield said when Mike pulled away from him red-faced with embarrassment. "You were tired and fell asleep, no big deal. You've been through a lot of shit…how someone could treat you the way _he_ treated you I just don't know. Seem like a fine young man to me, I'd never treat you like that."

_No, oh no I wouldn't treat you like that. I'd treat you worse…want some candy? I promise I won't hurt you._

Why Cena got stuck with Orton again he had no idea. Actually, he did know. Orton and Rhodes were fighting again and Rhodes had left Orton stranded. No one else would give him a ride and Rated RKO whined at Cena until the Champ thought he would go flipping mad. He just gave in and once again he had Orton sitting next to him bothering the hell out of him.

"You know Cena, I think we'd have really hot sex."

Cena nearly swerved into the next lane and a horn bleated angrily at him.

"What the…where did that come from and have you lost your damn mind?" Cena spat. The idea of he and Randy "gettin' it on" was not at all appealing to him.

"We dislike each other with a passion. Think if all that passion was transferred into something useful, like fucking the daylights out of each other." Orton leaned back in his seat with a smirk dancing on his lips. Cena glanced at him and by the far away half-dazed look glazing over his eyes Cena new that the man was thinking dirty thoughts about him. _Disturbing and disgusting._

"It would be amazing." Randy went on. 'I mean, we all know you haven't had decent sex for a while."

"How would you or anyone else know anything about my sex life? Fuck off!"

"Because, you've been a real bitch to be around lately, but then I guess you wouldn't notice. Plus I've heard a couple people complaining about you in the bedroom department." Orton's smirk grew wider into a twisted grin. He knew he was grating on Cena's nerves and he enjoyed every moment of it. Cena clenched his jaw tight and concentrated heavily on the road ahead of him as though he were trying to pass a driving test to get his license.

"No one complains about me in the sack."

"Maria, Bri, Kelly, Chris…" Randy counted off names on his fingers.

"Randy, you are going to be complaining about your head feeling like a pile of mush because I'm about to stop this fucking car and laugh as your skull crashes through the windshield!" Cena yelled at the other man but it didn't seem to phase Randy. He just kept on leering like a possum looking over a ripe bag of garbage.

"Make love, not war." Randy reasoned and ran his hand along Cena's thigh.

"Hands off or I break." Cena growled.

"Brake as in brake the car or break as in break my hands?"

"Both!"

Randy sighed and removed his wandering hands. He would lay off for a while but he knew he couldn't stay quiet for the whole rest of the car trip. It was just his nature. He suspected he knew what was going on with Cena, he probably missed his little flashy piece of ass John Hennigan. However if the rumors buzzing around the hotel this morning held any water then John might get his John back. It didn't bother Randy, two John's are better than one. He just inserted the third person into his fantasy and zoned out in his own world of perversion.

Mike leaned against the window and watched the world pass by outside. He toyed with the button for the window looping his finger around it in circles. Despite his nap he still felt drained and he had the feeling that he would always and forever feel this way. It was like being a half empty, shrunken, balloon with barely enough strength to keep hanging suspended in he air. He wondered when his life had become such a train wreck and if anyone or anything could upright it.

"Mike, you shouldn't brood like that. You should talk about what you're feeling." Layfield said softly.

Mike smiled a bit as his ears took comfort in the voice. It was warm and kindly, something people would not normally associate with Layfield. Those kinds of words associated with Layfield would be more along the lines of brash, loud, and ass-hole-ish. It seemed to Mike that people seemed to steer clear of John and just judge him by his rude, arrogant, in ring persona. Mike wondered why that was. He seemed like a decent enough guy, caring even.

"Feeling like shit is about how I can sum it up."

"What? Y'know you're laying the blame for this whole thing on yourself. From the way I see it, good riddance to bad rubbish. Don't look so surprised, everyone knew that cowardly low-life John Hennigan was screwing around on you again and again. You ought to be glad you're free of him and just move on…y'know that would really piss him off I bet wouldn't it?"

"I-I don't know. I mean, John's not as bad as all that. He broke up with me in a way because he did care I guess, he wanted to see me improve myself because I…tend to think poorly of myself I guess. I just don't know what he thinks I'm supposed to see."

"What do you see Mike?" Layfield asked resting a hand on the man's knee. Mike shrugged his shoulders and then they slumped back into their normal, defeated, position.

"A poor excuse for a man…a fuck up…a disaster…I don't even know where I belong anymore. I don't even like wrestling anymore, I used to love it. I could be someone else when I was in the ring. Not fucking stupid Mike Mizanin!" Mike tried to calm his emotions that were still strung high and tight. His throat felt choked with tears and anger. "But I don't even feel like I should be here anymore. I don't deserve it there are so many people who have worked so much harder than I have and are so much better than me, stronger, more charismatic, better looking--"

"Mike…you just hold on there." Layfield took the other man's chin in his hand and turned his face towards him a bit too roughly. _Gonna have to watch that John. Keep your hands in check, they have to be gentle and tender._ "Don't you dare say those things. Those are all a bunch of fuckin' lies…you've stayed with John for so long and took all his bullshit you have to be some kind of strong! And as for charismatic well hell, we all can't be that way! You are who you are, a quiet and good natured kinda fella. When you're in the ring though I don't know too many other people that come close to being as charismatic as The Chick Magnet does. That's something hard to pull off too…and don't ever say you aren't good lookin' 'cause I know different. I happen to think you are very attractive and you can go on and tell people that if you want to. Don't bother me none what people think of me. As for you, you best start thinkin' better of yourself because you don't give yourself enough credit."

"You—you really think all of those things?"

Layfield watched as he saw a glimmer in Mike's eyes. It was good for him to hear those things and think that they might be true. It was good to think that he may have hope, that maybe he was okay after all, that maybe all the insecurities and things he felt could be wrong.

"I do." _Not a total lie, I do find you attractive…although I find certain weak aspects of your personality just as attractive as your face. That face will look even nicer after I've left my mark on it. _

_Oh noes! Mike…he better watch himself or more appropriately watch Layfield. So will we see Cena and John back together in the future? What's up with Randy? Layfield really does remind me of a creepy man in a van offering candy to children…*shivers* Randy smiling like a possum? I think that was defiantly my favorite analogy perhaps ever…possums are so gross! Reviews please and thank you bunches!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Sorry for the lag in updates! Thank you to those of you who are sticking with the fic and giving me feedback it means a lot to me. Thank you to the reviewers of chapter 20: Divine Arion, Dark Kaneanite, Lichtblick, and Nefatiri. I hope you four are not the only ones continuing to read, lol. Is anyone out there? Maybe I made it too angsty. Lol, oh well! It is what it is, I let my muses decide. I don't care if I have only one person reading as long as someone likes it that's fine with me, and I am thankful for you four who are very loyal with reviews! Thank you to those who are still reading and or reviewing much appreciated love ya!!! _

Chapter 21

"Whoah, did I just see Mike come in with Layfield?" Randy swiveled his head this way and that.

"Randy, go away. We are at the hotel now so get out of my hair." Cena grumped and picked up the pace of his walk hoping to shake Randy.

"That would be disgusting. In fact, the idea that Layfield even has sex is disgusting!" Randy grimaced.

"Who said they were having sex? Mike just got dumped this morning I don't think he's that resilient. No one is." John ducked into the elevator and pushed a button to shut the door but Randy stuck his tattooed arm in the way, pushed the doors open, and got cozy right next to Cena.

"I guess it's just my dirty mind. I think about sex a lot." Orton leered leaning too close to John's face.

"Personal bubble, you are invading it." John shoved Randy aside forcefully which was probably the wrong action to take. It seemed Randy just liked it. He leaned in the corner of the elevator staring John up and down hungrily.

"That's not all I can invade."

"Bye Randy." John hurried out of the elevator and nearly sprinted to his room. Orton stayed behind in the elevator with his arms crossed smugly over his chest, a little smirk touching the corners of his lips, and his eyes affixed to Cena's disappearing form, more specifically, his nice shapely ass.

Cena was too busy fleeing from the strangeness of Randy Orton to focus fully on where he was going. He turned his head to give one last glance over his shoulder to make sure Orton hadn't followed him. The next thing he knew he bumped into something or someone and then tripped over what ever he had bumped into and fallen on his face.

"Hey, are you o--" John sat up pink faced with slight embarrassment at having bowled someone over. The pink heated to red when he saw who it was. Hennigan picked himself up from the floor and looked down at his wrecked suitcase. His clothes and personal things littered the hallway.

"John, sorry I should have watched where I was going." Cena picked up something of Johns. He handed it to the smaller man and realized he was holding his underwear.

"Um…don't worry about it." Hennigan mumbled and quickly snatched his underwear away. His face now matched Cena's in color.

"I um, I'm sorry about Mike."

"No you're not."

"Why would you say that?"

Hennigan shoved his belongings back into his suitcase awkwardly and struggled with zipping it back up.

"It's true. I mean at least be honest. You wanted us to be more than fuck buddies and the only thing in the way was Mike. So it's okay if you want to say you're sorry for helping ruin it, that's fine. But to say you're sorry that Mike and I are over is just a lie."

"Hm, well you're one to talk about lying, I didn't lie. I am sorry about you and Mike. You're right that I wanted you, want you still to be honest, but I didn't want things to happen the way they did with Mike. He's a decent guy and he doesn't deserve what we did to him. I will take blame for my part in it but don't lay the guilt you feel for yourself onto me. Don't accuse me of your sins."

The two stood for a moment glaring at each other. Cena was not really angry at John, he had no reason to be, he was simply sexually frustrated which Orton had correctly perceived earlier. Even if he and Hennigan felt nothing emotional for each other there was something else. There was passion, Cena lived for the kind of passion he had with John. He had never experienced it before John and he was finding that he was not experiencing it in anyone else. There was some special fire, some spark that set the world afire when they were under the covers. The fact that Cena was still obsessed with that spark and wanted to keep pursuing it despite the pain it had caused to Hennigan and Mike made him feel slightly sick. He wished he could give it up but he just couldn't. There was something there and he desperately wanted it back. He didn't expect to get it back tonight, it would take time but he was willing to be patient and take the time to sincerely win John over.

"You're right." Hennigan sighed and hung his head. Cena was taken off guard by the admittance and didn't know quite how to respond. "It was more my fault than yours. I was the one who was taken already, not you."

"Maybe it's for the best." Cena offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I guess. I hope he's going to be okay."

"Mike's a grown man he can take care of himself."

"I don't know. He's not in a good state of mind. He's down on himself, scared, and needy. It's not really a good combination. I have a bad feeling that someone's going to take advantage of him." Hennigan felt his anger rise a couple of notches when he had seen Mike and Layfield come into the hotel together earlier. Something didn't sit right there. Although Hennigan had not been the ideal partner to Mike he hadn't wanted to take advantage of him, he hadn't wanted to hurt him, things just go so fucked up. But there were people out there who searched for those weaker than themselves, there were predators who looked for people to con and win over just so they could put them on a leash and drag them around with their name stamped on their head. Mike would be easy pickings for someone who had ill intentions.

"Excuse me John and John." Layfield bumped past Cena and Hennigan and tipped his hat slightly as a courtesy that both men found annoyingly phony.

"Where's Mike?" Hennigan blurted out. Layfield stopped and turned to the younger man with narrowed eyes.

"Why d'you care, he's not yours any more. You've done enough haven't you?" Layfield gave Hennigan a shove that caused him to stumble back a couple steps.

"Get your hands off him!" Cena wheeled on the man in the cowboy hat and shoved him much harder than Layfield had shoved Hennigan. Layfield crashed into the wall but managed to keep himself balanced and off of the floor. He fixed his hat and then cocked his head at Cena, then at John.

"Well, well." He smirked. "What do we have here? I thought you too ended that thing."

"Go to hell!" Hennigan shot back and found himself toe to toe with Layfield.

"Out of my face, maggot." Layfield responded spitting the words out. Hennigan squinted his eye closed and wiped spittle from his face.

"Get out of here." Cena barked to Layfield. He shoved the two apart. Layfield backed off continuing to keep his little sneer on the other two Johns as he made his way down the hallway to his room.

"What a prick." Cena shook his fist at the small form of Layfield ambling on down the hallway.

"Thanks for taking up for me…I guess."

"Any time." Cena shrugged.

Mike had gotten a room by himself and already it was driving him batty. He was so used to having John there and now there was nothing. There were supposed to be two suitcases not one, John was supposed to have his pillows propped up on the bed as always, his personal things were supposed to be on the ledge in the shower.

Mike tried to ignore the hole that he felt at the absence of John. He curled up on the bed and flipped through channels on the t.v. but nothing caught his attention. He just zoned out and a few minutes later realized he was watching the television like a blind man, flipping channels without even seeing what was on. He was just pushing a button mindlessly because it didn't even matter. He got up from the bed and went back to doing what he was doing earlier which was pacing and stopping occasionally to rearrange things in his suitcase. He thought of Mark who always liked to room alone and didn't know how the guy did it without losing his mind. Well, Mark normally went out with other people and didn't spend the whole evening cooped up in his room…unless he was brooding which was very common. Mike considered that maybe he should go out despite that he really didn't feel like it. _Maybe I shouldn't on second thought, who would I go with?_ It was almost more painful to be alone in a crowded place than to be alone in solitude.

Mike startled when there was a soft tap on his door. His first thought was that John was coming around to check on him, or maybe even to change his mind about what he had said earlier. His heart jumped a bit at that thought, but then sank even lower than before knowing deep down that that wasn't true. In some small way he was glad that the possibility was unlikely. He didn't know if he could take anymore of John Hennigan, yet at the same time his heart ached for the familiarity of his presence. Mike opened the door to see John standing there, but not the right John.

"Hi Mike. I just wanted to see if you were settled in okay and everything. Thought you might be feelin' like a drink to dull the senses." Layfield held up a bottle.

_Yes, drown it all out! Drown it, drown it all to hell!_

"Sure, come in."

"I'm glad you got rid of that guy y'know. I really can't stand him!" Layfield griped as stormed past Mike with the bottle of Jack. Mike made no reply just shut the door. Layfield pulled a seat out at the small table and sat down placing a couple of glasses in front. "Yep. I ran into him and Cena in the hallway. Looked pretty cozy to me."

"Wh—what?" It didn't matter that he and John were no longer together. The words hit him hard. They had only just separated that morning and already he was with Cena again? Had all those reasons for breaking the relationship been no more than well constructed lies? Did John just pull the wool over his eyes that well and laugh as he left him for Cena? _This whole time he just wanted to get rid of you to be with Cena, it's always been Cena he just dragged you along for the ride, he never loved you it was always, always, always, John Cena. Cena was the one he loved and you were the idiot he roped along. Cena…Cena…_ The room seemed to fade away to shades of gray.

"Whoah!" Layfield knocked over his chair rushing up to catch Mike. He had intended for his words to have an affect on the kid but he hadn't expected him to just go lights out. He almost felt a slight pang of guilt, almost but it was gone before it could really be felt at all. He lowered Mike to the floor and slapped his cheeks lightly. He had the urge to hit him harder, so hard he could hear the music of the loud pop of palm against face, so hard that he could feel the warmth of blood on his hand from a busted nose or broken lip. _Patience, not yet. Just wait and when the time comes it will be all the sweeter. Slow and steady, slow and steady._

"Mike, wake up." Light slaps to the cheek, not too hard.

"H-huh?" Mike opened his eyes slightly and saw Layfields face swimming blurry above him.

"He's really…with Cena…already?" His voice cracked with the threat of fresh tears and he hated himself for it. He didn't want to waist anymore crying over John but he couldn't help it. Layfield wrapped his arms around the younger man and held him in his lap for a few moments.

"Looked like it." Layfield said quietly.

So maybe that was a straight lie, but there was definite evidence that the two John's still felt something for each other. That was more than easy to see based on the little confrontation earlier. Though Hennigan still became defensive over Mike there was still some connection, not love but something else, between him and Cena. Layfield suspected that Hennigan would try to suppress it but that sometime or later he would hear rumors buzzing that Hennigan and Cena were once again sharing a bed. It seemed only a matter of time if Layfield was right about these things, and he found that he always was.

"Why don't we start on that bottle of Jack?" Mike suggested eyeing the bottle of brown liquid up on the table. _Please, drown it away, just drown it all away._

_A bit shorter than usual, but a lot going on in this chapter. Randy Orton is a funny creature, he just snuck up in the story and wanted John (Cena). Is Cena going to realize that John H doesn't want him anymore? Is that completely true or is Layfeild correct that there is still something there both men want to explore again? Will Randy ever get what he wants or will he just annoy Cena to death? Most importantly…Mike! Is he going to fall into Layfeilds snare of mind games??? So many things, I feel this fic is going to have a lot more chapters before things are resolved, so hope you are enjoying it although it is very angsty. Reviews please and thank you! :)_


	22. Chapter 22

_So here I was in my usual predicament struggling to update, worrying over what I was going to say and how. My computer screen laughed at me egging me 'come on, just try to write, I dare ya'. Sometimes this fic seems hard to update but then I force myself to start and after a few paragraphs it's just like breathing, Yay! So I'm going to try hard to force those first few paragraphs out more often instead of fretting over it and putting off the update, because I don't like letting it fall behind and lay around stuck like a couple other fics I have. I like to update a lot and it bugs me when I can't, especially this fic because it somehow has stolen a piece of my heart and I love it in a strange way lol. Anywhoo what you want is the next chap, so here it is! But first, one last important detail, the thanks! Thank you all for reading/reviewing makes my face smile and my heart fuzzy: Jen, takers dark lover, Nefatiri, Breyer Rose, Lichtblick, Divine Arion, and Dark Kaneanite._

Chapter 22

"He's missing too many shows, and when he does show up he's not even fit to be here!" Vince shouted to Hennigan who flinched. He sat across the desk from Vince feeling like a kid in the principals office.

"I know." John said quietly, feeling his stomach knot up. Over two months had passed and Mike was no better than when he had been with Hennigan. He was probably worse. Hennigan couldn't imagine what kind of depression must be griping him that he was spending much of his time with John Layfield. The very thought brought a sour taste to his mouth. Yet he had to keep telling himself what he was about to tell Vince, because Hennigan had made the break final and for the better of Mike. Maybe Mike was having a hell of a time getting over their train wreck of a relationship and would just need more time to start recovering. But in the end he would be better off without the weighty deception of Hennigan dragging him down wouldn't he? John had to keep telling himself that, he had to see Mike coming out victorious on the other side or else he might break his break-up vow and go running back to rescue a man he still cared for deeply. Tears touched his eyes, and he realized he needed to push those thoughts aside or he was going to cry in McMahon's office which was not something he wanted to do. "Vince Mike and I aren't together anymore. Why are you talking to me and not Mike?"

"Because, you two are still together in my book, as a tag team. That is unless Mike continues down this road. I can't have it. It's bad for the company, it's bad for him too." Vince said lacing his fingers together and leaning over his desk.

"Why don't you just give him time off to get his ducks in a row…or at least in the same pond."

Vince shook his head.

"I tried. He didn't want to. He said wrestling with you is the only thing that makes him feel normal and he didn't want to give it up. At that point it was okay, he was still pulling it off fine in the ring, but something happened that changed that. At least talk to him Hennigan, maybe you can find out what his malfunction is."

_Me, I'm the malfunction._ John thought feeling guilt eat at him.

"Look, you can't split us up. Mike won't make it on his own."

_Just like now, you split up with him and he's drowning out there and standing on the shore throwing out life preserves with one hand and ducking Mike farther under the waves with the other hand is that shark Layfield._

John sighed and sank back in his chair conflicted and tired.

"He's going to drag your career down the toilet with his. He's in farther than you can reach now so you might as well let time do its little dance and just move on with your own life. You'll do great at singles. I'll give you a title run." Vince suggested with a shrug.

_I don't want singles, I want my partner._

"No. I can't do it."

"Y'know, you're in no condition to go out there and wrestle. I don't know why you do it to yourself. Going out there with Hennigan, that's like pouring salt into wounds, ya just don't do it." Layfield said to the worn young man in front of him.

"I want to." Mike muttered. He couldn't believe he missed another show, but once in a while the depression was so bad he couldn't even force his eyelids open, let alone get in a wrestling ring. At least when he was down in that hole Layfield came by to check on him, talk to him, hold him, sometimes even stay over night with him if it was really bad. Mike found himself already very attached to the older man. He called too much just to hear the comforting drawl of his voice, when he did decide to venture out into the real world he always found Layfield and latched onto him like an urchin, it was reassuring just to have him around.

"Why? Mike, Miz and Morrion is a fantasy. When you are out there you are with John Hennigan the guy who fucked you over for that bastard Cena. Do you think John cares about you anymore? He moved on. I've seen him with other people, happy as ever." Layfield glared, conveying to Mike that the thought of Hennigan acting in such a way was heinous. Layfield had no such proof of anything, nor did he care if, when, or who Hennigan moved on with. He just wanted Mike to quit wrestling and all he had to do was pull the right strings and tap the right buttons.

Mike's beautiful blue eyes misted over. Maybe Layfield was right. Going out to tag team with John was like some fantastical way of keeping a long dead relationship living in some warped part of Mike's head. The more he chewed it over in his mind, the more unhealthy it seemed.

"It's psychologically damaging." Layfield said as though he had picked Mike's head and found the thoughts drifting there. "You're just playing mind games with yourself. That's cruel."

"But…but if I quit…what else do I have? I'll have nothing, I'll be less of the nothing that I already am. It's all I have left John, I can't!" Mike wiped at the tear that fell down his cheek. "I can't."

"Mike, don't you know by now?" Layfield smiled, warm and sincere to Mike's eyes. "You have me." John reached across the table and wrapped Mike's hands in his. He felt them trembling and stroked them softly, lovingly, until they stilled. This simple action actually drew a smile from Mike.

_He thinks I give a damn…ha._ Layfield thought to himself and inwardly smirked at his own cleverness and cunning.

"You? But we're just friends. Once I quit—if I quit—we won't see each other anymore. I'll be more alone that ever. I can't, I'm already too alone as it is and I can't hardly bear it. I know it's silly but when you're not here and I'm by myself it just feels like everythings closing in, the walls, my head, I hate it. I stay up pacing because I can't sleep, I got to bed because I can't stop pacing, I get up and turn on the t.v. and there are just mindless flickers with meaningless words. I'm afraid to put a toe out the door unless I'm with someone, with you. The worlds going to eat me up, it's too much, I feel like an ant in the ocean. The gigantic, hungry, waves crash all around and pound me down so I can't breath, can't swim, and there's nothing and no one to grab onto just sinking…sinking."

Mike wasn't crying but he wiped at his swollen, bruised looking eyes out of habit.

"I'm not gonna let you drown." Layfield said moving his chair around the table, next to Mike. He wrapped an arm around Mike's slumped shoulders. "I…well I've grown quite fond of ya myself. I just want what's best for ya, and I think that is cutting the last string that ties you to that fucker Hennigan. What happens from there? I'll see you through. As far as finances, don't give it a second thought. I'll take care of it." Layfield cupped Mike's chin in his other hand and tilted it upwards, something that Mike fought a bit at first. He was always hanging his head down like a beaten puppy. Sometimes he just didn't feel significant enough to hold it up.

"What are you asking?" Mike swallowed hard, knowing somehow what was coming. He feared it, and yet he welcomed it with need, it excited him to once more have such close, meaningful, physical contact. He felt like a parched man in a desert being offered a life saving bottle of cold, inviting, water.

Layfield pressed his lips to Mike's reminding himself not to be rough, which was what he really wanted. He didn't want to seem desperate or just after physical things, it had to be a love kiss, not an 'I've got a hardon for you' kiss. It was gentle, soft, silky, caressing, and not too long lasting, just enough to make the statement and not be too needy. Mike was the one left nipping at Layfield's lips as they pulled away. Even Mike was surprised at how much he wanted the kiss, needed the kiss, craved it. It wasn't needed to satisfy some inner lust, which even Layfield knew, it was needed to feel wanted, loved, cherished, all of those emotional things that a kiss was supposed to be. Layfield knew this to be true from the way Mike begged for more without saying a word.

"Well?" Layfield asked quietly, gazing at Mike lovingly, making himself feel awkward on purpose so his cheeks would tint pink with feigned embarrassment at his equally falsified feelings. Mike only bobbled his head in a nod and his eyes—the intense color of a darkening sky—glittered with tears of happiness. His mind could at last take a deep sigh of relief. He was no longer alone.

"No Vince, come on I said no." Hennigan protested.

"I'm not trying to be a jack-ass Hennigan, but I have the last say so. I'm having creative do something to split you guys up and then get the ball rolling with you on your own. As for Mizanin it's up to him if he wants to stay or go. I'm sorry John, I have to think of what's best for the company."

"Fuck the company." John growled under his breath.

"What did you say?" Vince asked narrowing his eyes at the irritated young man in front of him. John pressed his lips together in an angry pout which verged on being sexy without meaning to. He flicked his hair out of the way.

"I didn't say anything." John said copping an attitude like a mad child.

"I thought so." Vince said. He pushed some papers around on his desk and licked the tip of his pen, a bad habit which always seemed to bug everyone who worked for him.

"Vince, um do you have a minute?"

It took John a minute to place the voice as Mike's. He was so used to hearing it in a depressed monotone or a tearful wobble that hearing it sounding happy didn't at first register with his senses. There was something else other than happiness though, it was a happiness tinged with a bit of nervousness.

"Go on, it's okay." Another equally familiar but despised southern drawl made John grind his teeth together. Layfield gave Mike a little nudge forward.

"Mizanin, just the guy I wanted to see." Vince said shuffling more papers and glaring deeper than ever, this time at Mike rather than Hennigan. "I'd like to know if you think you can just jerk me around. If you have personnel problems then do as I suggested before and take a leave. If not, then I suggest you get your shit together and be a wrestler. If neither one of those options appeals to you, then you can break your contract."

There was silence. Layfield supressed his urge to shove Mike forward much harder than before. This was supposed to be quick, wham bam thank you ma'am, and he was dragging his feet. Layfield was not going to let him back out.

"It's for the best." Layfield whispered.

"Why don't you stop being a snake in the grass and quit feeding him a line of bullshit!" Hennigan said catching a hiss from Layfield. He flew out of his chair and before he knew what he was doing he was standing toe to toe with Layfield. The big Texan sneered down at the smaller man who scowled from under his sunglasses which were propped up on his head. Layfield picked the glasses away like plucking away a piece of pepperoni from a pizza. He examined the studded shades a moment before coughing out a laugh and tossing them over his shoulder.

"What are you gonna do pretty boy? He doesn't belong to you." Layfield leered like a sick lizard. "You threw him out, like a sack a' old garbage."

That sent Hennigan over the edge and he began to rain punches into Layfield's chest. A tussle was about to ensue before McMahon flew from his desk and inserted himself between the two, bellowing like an insane referee.

"Hey hey hey, just a goddam minute! This is no wrestling ring or bar room, this is my office, and you two will not spill blood on my carpet!"

"Don't listen to him Mike, he's a fucking lying dog!" Hennigan shouted to Mike, ignoring the raging McMahon in front of him.

"Well, if that ain't like the pot callin' the kettle black." Layfield laughed.

"Out, Hennigan out of my office!" Vince swatted at the smaller John like he was a pesky fly. "I'm done with you, out!"

"But--"

"Out, out!" McMahon repeated and practically shoved a protesting Hennigan out of his office.

"Whew." Vince smoothed his suit coat and straightened his tie. "Now, what is the meaning of this? Oh yeah, I was giving you an ultimatum." Vince reminded Mike as he sauntered back to his desk and perched behind it.

"I know. I quit." The words fell out of Mike's mouth and he couldn't really believe he said them. It seemed unreal that he was giving something up that he had worked so hard for, that he had enjoyed so much at some point in his life, a point that seemed long ago and nearly forgotten. He turned his unsure orbs to Layfield for support and the tall Texan nodded somberly. Vince squinted from Mike, back to Layfield, feeling that something wasn't completely kosher. He had not actually expected Mizanin to quit, he had hoped that being harsh as he had would open Mike's eyes and help him see that he needed to take personal time to get his head straightened out.

"Are you sure?" Vince asked skeptically. Mike said nothing, he could feel himself start to falter. Likewise Layfield could feel the doubt swarming around the edges of Mike's original reply to Vince's ultimatum. Layfield grasped Mike's shoulders and kneaded them softly, providing unspoken reassurance, reminding him of what he really wanted.

The feel of Layfield's big hands working the stress from his shoulders encouraged him. He's trying to spur me on. He's telling me its okay. The warmth and comfort of the Texan's hands against him made him feel like melting because the gesture was so caring and kindly, so loving. _This is what I want. This is what I want more than anything._

"Yes." Mike said with a confidence that surprised all three of the men. "This is what I want."

Reluctantly, Vince gathered up the correct documents and watched numbly as Mike signed everything that demanded a signature. It was going to be difficult to break up The Miz and Morrison at the peak of their popularity. But even beyond that, Vince knew that something was wrong here. He looked up at Layfield who was watching Mike with a smirk as the younger man signed his career away. _He's signing it away to that bastard. _McMahon thought and sent daggers at Layfield. Layfield just gave a slight shrug of his shoulders as if to say, who the hell cares what you think.

_Yes, he's doing it. He's signing right on my dotted lines._ Layfield thought as he watched the last paper receive a signature.

"Can you stick around a little longer just for the sake of storyline, so you can be written off for some reason?" Vince asked hopefully. Perhaps he could get Mike to hang on a bit longer, that would give him more time to consider, and he might change his mind. Vince expected Layfield to snarl at his interference with what seemed to be some concocted plan by the Texan. However, Layfields expression never changed. It almost made Vince shudder, it was as if he was so confident in his manipulations that he knew without doubt Mike would not hold on.

"I don't want to Vince. As for a storyline? Make John into a heel and just tell them that he dumped me from the tag team. He wanted to move on to bigger and better things, I was just dragging him down. Tell them the truth."

Mike and John left Vince's office. Mike seemed to feel a weight lift from him, Layfield just felt tremendously, sickishly, proud of himself.

"You did the right thing." Layfeild said taking Mike's hand and squeezing it.

Hennigan was standing with his forehead pressed to the huge glass windows looking out at the street below with all the tiny little people milling around like ants. He thought that was how Layfield must see the world, he was the big boss sitting high and mighty on his throne in the sky and he looked down at all the little ants, waiting to crush the weakest one underfoot. When John heard the door to Vince' s office close, and Layfield open his mouth, he left his vantage point at the window.

"Mike, please don't let him pull your strings!" Hennigan begged, exasperated and worried for Mike's well being.

"I don't let anyone pull my strings anymore, like you did." Mike said, glaring a bit at Hennigan and pressing himself to Layfield's side. Layfield wrapped an arm around his victim.

"Mike!" Hennigan pleaded, on the verge of literally dropping to his knees. His frustration grew more and more reckless and he just wanted to tear his perfect hair out.

"You had your chance and you fucked it, literally." Mike spat the words out bitterly. "You said you wanted me to move on. If that was really the truth, then you should be happy for me instead of trying to be manipulative."

"Manipu—you mean to tell me, but he--" Hennigan sputtered unable to put together a coherent sentence. How could Mike be so twisted to call him manipulative, when the master of the craft was holding him like a cat holds the corpse of a dead mouse under its paw. "Mike!"

"Come on Mike. We don't need him stickin' his nose where it doesn't belong." Layfield tilted Mike's chin upwards and pressed a kiss to his lips. The display of affection and the way Mike accepted it like sustenance made Hennigan real with nausea. He watched sick to his stomach as Layfield led Mike away, just plain Mike Mizanin and never again the Miz. He watched as Layfield steered him down a road that was going to be dark and full of perils. Mike had just stepped away form the crossroads where he had sold a piece of his soul to the devil, and and he didn't even realize it.

_Please don't leave a puddle of barf as your review, lol. It was odd to write the kisses between JBL and Mike because I keep imagining JBL's lips to be cold, clammy, slimy like kissing a fish and it just icks me out tremendously. Much drama as always…I feel bad that Miz went bye bye. I hate Layfield yet love him, I honestly didn't know I could make someone that …evil. He makes an excellent bad guy and I like making him evil. Mike needs hugs, *hugs Mike* Hennigan needs a beer I think. *gives Hennigan a beer* Not sure what Randy and Cena are up to. Maybe check in with them in the next chapter. I dread the eventual sex scenes with Mike/Layfield because I imagine his thingy the same as his lips, fishlike. iiiick…*shudder* Sorry for bad mental images. Sorry for rambling. *Shuts up now*_


	23. Chapter 23

_Update yay! Thank you for being loyal to this fic and reading and reviewing! I'm always happy to see what you all think. :D Thanks to all of you for putting the amount of reviews on this fic over 100, I'm really happy!: Nefatiri, PalaceofWisdomPrincess, Litchtblick, takers dark lover, Dark Kaneanite, xMayhemx, Divine Arion and Seiji-kun Chiaki-kun Eiji-kun. Obviously I mention the JBL and Shawn storyline and obviously this doesn't mesh with the fic because in reality that would make this taking place currently and of course Miz is still wrestling for WWE. But that's why this is a fic. :) Also a note to Dark Kaneanite…I agree with you about Sim's hair. I also can't stand Dolph Ziglers hair, it's icky to me. Everytime I hear the name Dolph Zigler it makes me think of the sweet, short, baling man I had as a science teacher in highschool. His name was Mr. Zigler. He was defiantly not a wrestler. Lol! Now here's the next chapter…_

Chapter 23

"I hate this whole storyline!" Layfield yelled as he stormed into the hotel room he was sharing with Mike. He had just come from a meeting with Vince. The day after Mike had quit Vince had popped the angle of the Shawn and JBL storyline and it was now only a week until the Royal Rumble. The storyline was an ongoing annoyance in John's life that he couldn't wait to be rid of.

Mike was sitting on the bed with his legs curled under him and he jumped visibly startled at the slam of the door. Layfield snatched his cowboy hat from his own head and tossed it across the room where it smacked the wall then came to a rest overturned on the carpet as though it was waiting for passerby to drop coins in it.

Mike frowned as John's anger etched lines onto his face and turned his lips downwards in a frown and lit his eyes with an aggressive fire. Since John's storyline with Shawn he had been moody. Mike crawled off the bed and walked over to his lover thinking of slinking up behind him and rubbing his strong, tense, shoulders. John slapped his hands away before he could offer any comfort. Mike shrank away watching as John looked him up and down with his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"They make it seem like I can't wrestle on my own. I have to have fucking Shawn Wonderboy Michaels in my corner in order to win!" John fumed.

"It's just a storyline. Besides it does fit with JBL's character…"

"Hmph." John grunted and walked away to retrieve his abused hat. He sat it back on his head where it belonged and sat himself in a chair. He kicked off his shoes and propped his big sweaty feet up on the table. "I don't like Shawn Michaels in or out of the ring. They know that yet they insisted on putting us in this damn storyline. They're just going to make Shawn out to be the hero in the end. He never makes a good heel."

Mike just smiled and pulled out a chair and rubbed John's feet as the Texan went on ranting and raving about what was wrong with Shawn Michaels, John Cena, and Creative. After a few moments he was silenced by the pleasurable feel of Mike's fingers kneading the thick pads and sore muscles of his feet. John leaned back in his chair sighing as Mike found all the right spots to relieve the tension. It was the small moments such as these that John could almost forget his intensions and that he did not care for Mike but the kid was just his plaything. He watched Mike's fingers roam over his feet and envisioned taking his fingers one by one and pulling them back and hearing them crackle. John smiled imagining the pain that would cause to Mike and the pleasure it would give him. Mike smiled back at him stupidly thinking that his lover was pleased with his show of affection not some sick vision he conjured in his mind.

"So you're good with your hands are ya Mike?" John smirked as he leaned back further in his chair. _He probably had to learn to use his hands since his lovely John Morrison was too busy fucking with Cena to give him any attention._ John almost brayed laughter as that thought passed through his mind. He managed to form the laughter into a bigger smirk which Mike just attributed to John's playful little pun.

"I'm good with a lot of things." Mike replied releasing John's feet. He moved them from his lap and placed John's heels back on the table. His feet rested crossed at the ankles. Mike traced his finger up John's outstretched leg as he sauntered towards the other man. His heart thudded hard in his chest, nervous and excited at the same time. He wanted so desperately to please John and a loud voice in his head kept telling him that he was bound to fail. Perhaps John would be displeased with his size, turned off by his performance, or even disgusted by his body. Mike had gained a few pounds after slacking off in his work out and then after the fiasco with Hennigan and the battle with his depression had added a few more making him self conscious of his pooching tummy or extra love handles. He only hoped he didn't look as bad as the mirror told him. Hennigan had often told him that he exaggerated his flaws. He tried to push those thoughts away and concentrate on what was more important, pleasing his lover.

Layfield noticed that Mike had suddenly paused as though having second thoughts or becoming uneasy about his original intentions. _He's so damn insecure._ JBL thought to himself. It was disgusting but it was useful to know the things that made Mike uncomfortable, unsure, and weak. Mike's insecurities were just more tools for JBL to use and manipulate. A big smile stretched across the Texans face. He pulled Mike onto his lap reassuring him. Just for effect John even let out a slight moan which brightened Mike's face. It was annoying but John had to keep remembering how much Mike had to be reassured in everything. His moan had done the trick but just to be sure Layfield cupped Mike's face and brought the younger man's lips to his and took them in a hungry kiss.

Mike was surprised at how quickly he had became aroused and just from the animalistic kiss that John ravaged his lips with. It had been too long since he had felt that kind of passion and thrill. His whole body seemed to pulse with the heated current that John's kiss sent leaping and throbbing through his veins. Evertime Mike tried to pull away to sneak a breath John deepened the kiss stealing his air away and making him dizzy with need.

John was amused at how effortless it was to get Mike twitching and panting. He was so easy. John released Mike's lips and the young man gripped his lover's shoulders as he panted dragging breath into his aching lungs. John just watched happy with himself at the state he had thrown Mike into. The young man was more aroused than he was sweat already popped up on his brow and dripped down his jaw line. Mike's erection was very noticeable as it pressed stiffly against the zipper and prodded JBL in the stomach. His blue eyes were alight with love and glazed with lust for the man beneath him. Mike snatched John's white cowboy hat from his head and peeled himself away from the Texan.

Mike made his way over to the bed strutting sexily and turning to sit the hat on his own head and flash John a seductive little grin. He shed his shirt into a crinkled wad on the floor soon followed by his jeans and boxers. He climbed onto the bed nude but for JBL's white cowboy hat. The sight was pleasant enough for John who felt himself stirring to life, but what really made his mouth go dry was when Mike started to stroke himself.

"So…" Mike could feel John's eyes boring into him and he looked up from beneath the cowboy hat that tilted over his eyes. "Come and get me."

"Oh, I'm gonna get you alright." John drawled and ran his tongue over his hungry lips. He climbed onto the bed and slid between Mike's legs propping himself up on one elbow. Mike smiled up at him and replaced the cowboy hat onto its rightful place on John's head. John pulled the hat off and tossed it away with a growl.

He took Mike's lips again biting and chewing at them, mauling them, raping them much rougher and harder than before. It was more of an assault than a kiss and Mike felt his lips split and swell and the warmth of blood smeared over them as they throbbed in pain. The feel of Mike's lips tearing and bleeding under his own got John aroused. He moved away from Mike's mouth taking his assault lower over his chin and down his neck where his teeth bit and pinched fragile flesh between them. The grunts from Mike as he tried to hold back the pained moans spurred John on. He moved down Mike's neck leaving a trail of raised, darkening, bruises and small crevasses where his teeth hand left their signature.

Mike was not at all used to rough sex. The pain was not really a turn on for him but it had yet to turn him off. John on the other hand was getting quite a thrill from it. For Mike the throb of the John's groin pressing against him was enough to keep Mike in a state of excitement. His hands roamed downwards finding John's belt and undoing it and pulling it through the loops until it was free. John was momentarily distracted as he watched Mike toss his belt over the edge of the bed. He imagined using the belt for various purposes on his partner but thought better of it. He didn't want to go too far their first time and scare Mike away with his violent tendencies. He turned back to his lover and ran his fingers down Mike's chest biting his nails into the flesh and dragging them tearing the flesh ragged with long scratches.

Mike writhed underneath him and panted fighting with the sounds that wanted to erupt from him. He undid John's pants and tugged them down along with John's underwear and took the waiting beast in his hands. For a moment his mind took him back to a different John and a different kind of love making that he was more used to. He knew Hennigan so well, he knew each sigh and moan, the ways to get him excited quickly or ways to make it last and build it into a beautiful, passionate, rhythm of need and love, one taking the other, both coming together. Those thoughts momentarily distracted him causing the motion of his hand on JBL's member to cease as those memories threatened to tear him apart right then and there even as his new John raked stinging furrows over his flesh.

Suddenly, John gripped Mike's nipple between his thumb and forefinger and crushed it. Mike cried out at the pain and out of reflex his hand squeezed tight around JBL's cock and he arched up into the older man writhing at the pain. John quickly released his grasp on Mike's hardened nipple and let out a yowl of his own. He pried Mike's hand away from his penis and before he could stop his own impulses he bitch slapped the young man straight across the face.

"What the fuck were you doing!" John bellowed pinning Mike's wrists to the bed. Mike opened his eyes which were previously squeezed tightly shut with the pain of John killing his nipple. It ached and throbbed painfully and now his face stung too. When he blinked his eyes open tears ran silently from the corners and dripped into his ears.

"I didn't mean to…I'm not used to…" Mike swallowed hard feeling embarrassed and absurd for his reaction.

"You're going to have to get used to it." John panted. Sweat dripped from his face and fell into Mike's eye which he squinted shut at the salty burn. "I guess I should have told you how I like it. I was just afraid that you would be uncomfortable with it and then, well, I didn't want to have to be alone again. You know how it is to be alone."

John held Mike's beautiful blue eyes with his and waited for him to feel the bite of that word alone, that word that Mike hated so much. John waited for Mike to take the lie and accept the sexual desires of his partner. How little did he know the true colors of JBL. If he thought that pinch and slap was the worst of it the poor boy would be sadly mistaken. John would always make sure Mike knew his place and stayed in it. There was no relationship here, only the illusion that John was required to plant and nurture in Mike's mind and heart. Soon enough even that would fall away and Mike would probably realize that there was nothing here at all but a cruel man who desired cruel pleasures and a weak plaything to dominate. But for now Mike was clueless to any true intentions and was only aware of the new discovery that his lover liked rough sex. How bad could that be? John knew Mike would go along with it, he was so desperate to please. Not pleasing his lover could mean rejection and that was the root of his fears and the thing John could always count on to get him out of a tight spot. He would just have to threaten to leave Mike alone and that was all the power he needed.

"I'm sorry." Mike took in a deep breath and wrapped his arms around John's neck. "Do whatever you want with me."

_Oh Mike, you didn't have to give me permission._ John grinned at his plaything relishing his weakness all the more.

"I'm going to take you." John hissed and his breath came out hot and wet against Mike's ear. Mike closed his eyes and made himself as ready as he could be to take anything that John threw at him. "I love you baby."

As long as Mike heard those words, nothing else mattered.

_Okay JBL muse should be satisfied now. Hope I didn't make anyone too sick there. I'm kind of worried I'm messing up the flow from chapter to chapter…it can be difficult for me sometimes...can you guys please give me some input? What do you think of this chapter? Reviews please? Thanks!_ :D *gives everyone John Morrison sunglasses*


	24. Chapter 24

_Thank you everyone who reviewed the last chapter you guys rock! Sorry for long delay in updates. :)_

Chapter 24

Cigarette smoke hung in the air, thick like smog. The only thing strong enough to permeate the nicotine cloud was whiskey. The man at the end of the bar had bought a fifth, drank half of it, and then fumbled the bottle littering the floor with shards of glass and filling the room with the pungent odor. Just underneath that was the thud of music seeping through the ceiling from the room above where the atmosphere was more conducive to dancing, grinding, make-outs, and striping. John had seen Cena, Cody, Kofi, and Ken head up that way earlier. Cena of course had stopped to try and drag his ex-lover along, probably hoping to do some dirty dancing with him and maybe score, but Hennigan was in a down mood and not yet tipsy enough to consider the invitation. Instead he snapped at Cena and the Professor of Thuganomics disappeared with the other guys upstairs.

Hennigan remained glued to his barstool throwing back shots of tequila. He couldn't rid his mind of the image of Layfield tipping Mike's chin upwards and touching those filthy, conniving, lips to lips that Hennigan had once known intimately. He could only think of what else they would soon be doing, if they hadn't took things that far already, and that made his stomach hurt. Hennigan hung his head over his emptied shot glass and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. It seemed ironic that Mike had been the one to move on after all. Hennigan was now the one who was stuck yearning for a romance and a relationship that was now dead. He pushed the shot glass forward. The buxom blonde barmaid started to pour another but he stopped her and instead took the whole bottle and made friends with it.

Upstairs Kofi had found Melina and the two of them were getting pretty heated in their dance moves. Ken was known to get drunk fairly easily and true to form the blonde was already wasted and shouting "Kennedy!" to anyone and everyone. Cena chuckled when Ken wobbled over to Kofi and tapped him on the shoulder. Kofi raised an eyebrow at the young man who was interrupting him from his passionate grind with Melina. Melina scowled at Ken and pulled Kofi closer to her.

"Hey mon, do you want to dance?" Kofi said jokingly releasing Melina for a moment and spreading his arms wide as if to invite Ken into them.

"Misteeeer…Kennedy!" Ken bellowed. "Kennedy!"

"Kofi!" Melina whined. The Jamaican patted Ken on the shoulder then turned back to his dance partner and wrapped her in his arms.

Cena and Cody had gotten a little further than Kofi and Melina. Couches and love seats littered the upstairs area and all were overflowing with horny couples and a few horny threesomes. Lips crashed against lips, fingers tore away hot, sticky, clothing, alcohol tainted breath came in gasps and moans against tickled ears. Crowded onto the end of one such couch was Cena with his lap full of Cody.

Rhodes was the more excited of the duo. He was starting to pant with desire and need as he kissed Cena deeper and explored the man's toned, sweaty, body with his roving hands. Cena was only slightly aroused, and more than aroused he was bored. He and Cody had been through this routine a few other times and he always found that Cody got too excited too quickly. Cena figured that Cody was relatively new to the male on male experience. Doing it with Cody was like having sex with a virgin every time. Cody gripped John's shoulders and trailed hungry kisses down his neck. _I wish this was Hennigan instead of Rhodes. _Cena's memories drifted back to the best sex he had ever had and while Cody moaned against his neck he paid no attention and just thought of someone else. Maybe if he got turned on enough he would take Cody back and pleasure him just for kicks and giggles. It would be better than going back with no one at all, or worse, being designated to take Ken back to the hotel at the wee hours of the morning while he shouted and woke everyone within the whole state.

"John?" Cody sighed breathlessly. Sweat glistened on his features and his eyes beheld the man underneath him with a glazed expression. "Can we get out of here?"

_Well, I'm not ready but…why the hell not._

Randy had heard from Glen and Mark that Cena was at Blondie's. The place was not really the kind of thing Randy would normally go for, her preferred clubs, but Blondie's was a special place that had became a sort of tradition amongst some of the guys. Randy was one of the few who had never stepped a toe inside the place. It was a bit too on the sleazy side of the spectrum for his tastes but a certain someone was inside sohis toes and the rest of him entered the bar.

Through the thick atmosphere he noticed Mark and Glen in a corner with Nattie and Kelly. Somehow Randy couldn't picture the loud, obnoxious, red headed woman with 'Taker but there they sat, even after Mark had sworn off dating co-workers. He also spotted Finlay, Paul W, Paul L, and the ever despicable Layfield. Cena had yet to be found downstairs and Randy was about to head upstairs but saw someone else who caught his attention. A smile danced at his lips when he noticed Hennigan drooping over the bar looking pretty, pouty, and drunk.

"Hey." Orton said straddling an empty stool next to Hennigan. "Have you seen Cena?"

Hennigan had been staring aimlessly at the dark liquid that was mysteriously vanishing from his bottle when a familiar voice annoyed him. He looked up to see a blurry version of the owner of that voice. Strangely enough Hennigan briefly forgot that he was annoyed by Randy, and noticed instead that the man looked unusually delicious. He tried to be subtle about looking him over but with the tequila having taken affect some time ago any kind of subtlety had vanished. It ended up more like an obvious ogle that Randy seemed to enjoy.

"You should fuggibout Cena." John slurred.

"You should forget Mike." Randy said with a little smirk. "When you forget him then I'll forget Cena."

"Fuckya."

"If you want." Randy shot back with a chuckle. His mind was working scenarios. Being sidetracked with Hennigan could be a very good thing. His best bet was to take John upstairs and dance with him making sure that Cena noticed. "We could start with a little dancing first." Randy offered. He abandoned his barstool and pulled on John's hand. "Come on!"

Hennigan took a parting nip of tequila and made a clumsy parting with the barstool. Randy steadied him, making sure he didn't fall on his handsome face, and led the swaying shaman upstairs.

Cena hadn't been extremely eager to leave with Cody and so they stayed a bit longer on the couch. Cody continued in his usual manner and Cena let him. John watched people dancing and hoped that Cody didn't come undone before he could even get him back to the room. With that thought in mind Cena stirred a bit ready to get up and lead Cody away but two someones caught his attention and he stopped. Cody hadn't even noticed John's movement and just continued. He grabbed one of John's hands and stuck it down his pants. Cena stroked Cody idly not really caring. His focus was on Randy and John and as the second ticked away he was becoming more and more jealous…and at the same time more and more aroused.

He had always been drawn to Hennigans killer looks from the day he met the other man. Randy was another story altogether, he had never found him attractive until now. Randy's eyes were closed in blissful horniness and sweat glistened on the tanned skin of his face and neck, his lips parted slightly and Cena imagined a moaned slipping out from them. Randy pulled Hennigan closer to him and thrust and grinded against his perfect ass. He dipped his head downwards and claimed Hennigan's neck as his own suckling and biting as he continued the sexual dance and his hands reached around to feel the bulge that was growing between Hennigan's legs and pressing at his tight pants.

Cody let out a surprised yelp as he was dumped on the ground and then stepped over by Cena. Cody stuck his lip out in a pout as he watched Cena move like a zombie towards Hennigan and Orton. A chuckle sounded from above him and Cody looked up to see Batista extending his hand. With a little shrug to himself he grabbed Dave's hand and let the older man lead him away.

Randy lifted his head when hot breath puffed against his face and to his glee the eyes that he saw looking back at him glazed over and lust filled belonged to the object of his failed flirtations, John Cena. He was dancing on Hennigan who was three sheets to the wind and now sandwiched between the two. Randy smirked and lathered steaming kisses down the back of Hennigan's neck and Cena mirrored that action tracing his tongue down Hennigan's throbbing pulse. Hennigan's head swam with sensations as teeth nipped and tongues flicked. He thrust against Cena needing him so bad. Randy and Cena tore at his shirt battling over it before nearly ripping it off and tossing it to the floor. Cena and Randy bit down onto his shoulders at the same time causing him to grasp Cena's shoulders, knuckles turning white, and a loud whimpering moan to escape his lips right into Cena's ear. Cena pulled away and grabbed Randy and John roughly by the hands.

"Let's go." He panted raggedly and dragged the two men out of the bar.

The hotel was only a couple blocks away but the state of Hennigan made the trek a bit difficult as he stumbled and blundered around falling more than once and shredding the skin from his hands. Randy and John dragged him up and draped his arms across their shouders and urged him onwards, all too eager to get to the bedroom.

"Fuck me." Hennigan slurred. "Fuhme please!"

Randy and John couldn't help but laugh as they towed Hennigan into the hotel and he shouted louder and louder. They had to stop at the elevator and while Randy held his stomach laughing to the point of tears Cena held a finger to his lips and tried unsuccessfully to hush the wailing drunkard. At last Cena resorted to planting his hand over Hennigan's mouth to muffled his pleading. The three men spilled into the elevator, thankfully alone. As soon as the doors dinged shut they got back to their ravaging of John. He tried to respond by kissing Cena but he felt so slow and clumsy and when he tried his lips ended up on Cena's chin. He settled for sliding his hands instead into the front of Cena's jeans and enjoying the feel of two sets of lips and four hands erratically exploring his body and the heavy breathing of Randy in his ear.

The elevator arrived at its destination and Hennigan stumbled towards the hallway then fell flat on his face with a groan. Randy fell into the corner of the elevator in a reoccurring fit of hysterics and Cena peeled John off of the carpet and carried him to his room like a groom cradling his bride. Randy followed along behind and ran ahead into Cena's room and immediately began to disrobe.

Randy watched as Cena laid his ex-lover onto the bed and stripped his own shirt off then climbed atop Hennigan and took his lips in a passionate kiss that left Randy in a momentary trance and intensified his raging hard on. He crawled onto the bed behind Cena and began to grind against his ass.

_I can't believe it, I thought I'd never have him again!_ Cena barely had a handle on what he was doing. His mind and body was overwhelmed finally getting the thing it had hungered for. The familiar taste of Hennigan's skin slicked his tongue and sent shivers coursing through his body tingling his nerves with excitement. He plunged his tongue deep into Hennigan's mouth wanting more and more and hoping to make this last as long as possible because there might not be a next time. He lost his fingers in Hennigans' soaking hair and finally released his lips leaving them swollen to match his nose which was unfortunately damaged from his earlier grand exit of the elevator.

Randy bit into the exposed, sweaty, flesh of Cena's back eliciting a moan from him. Randy was quickly falling over the edge, his fantasy was finally coming true and it was all he had imagined. His hands trembled as they eagerly explored the hard muscled curves of Cena's body. They reached around and ran over his tight chest, down his chiseled abs, and down to the waist band of his pants where another pair of hands was working at the button. Soon he and Hennigan were having a battle with John's pants and at last the two of them freed Cena from them. Then the two of them took there battle elsewhere and Cena thought he would come undone as fingers fought for dominance over his burning hard cock.

Cena tugged John's curve hugging pants away and in one movement thrust his entire length into him. John howled and arched up against him reaching around and clawing at Randy's arms which were wrapped around Cena's heaving torso. Cena started up a quick, hard, pace and after a moment Randy entered Cena from behind. After a few moments the three became in sync. Randy pounded a rough and steady rhythm into Cena, and at the same pace Cena thrust inside John, while his hands worked over Hennigan's head and shaft.

Hennigan writhed around beneath the two of them like a man possessed, although blissfully so. His stubby nails clawed at whatever flesh he could find some belonging to Cena and some belonging to Randy. Hennigan was the first to come with a ragged yell he let go forcefully into John's hand and moments later Cena echoed his cry, just after that was Randy.

Randy rolled away from Cena and splayed out on the bed, his head spinning, feeling like he was stoned out of his mind. His lips turned up in the dopiest grin ever and his eyes were somewhere far away. Cena left Randy and John on the bed and went to clean himself up. Meanwhile, Randy was brought out of his satisfied daze at the hoarse sound of sobbing next to him. He rolled over and found Hennigan weeping into Cena's pillow, the sound so rough and dripping with sorrow that it made Randy's chest tighten.

"Hey, John what's wrong?" Randy nudged John until he rolled his head up from the pillow to take in a breath strangled with tears. His brown eyes caught Randy's and held them as though pleading with him in their drunken and pained state. He closed them tight and burst into fresh sobs, rolling into a ball, his shoulders quaking. He mumbled one word over again and again a whispered haunting of something that once was. Randy drew John close to him and stroked his hair as he cried into his chest. Randy suddenly regretted his actions earlier, telling John to just forget Mike, as it was his plan to use the drunk Hennigan to get to the object of his own affections. _You're a piece of shit sometimes Randy._ The third-generation superstar thought to himself. What he had did was wrong and now as pleasurable as the experience was he honestly regretted it.

Cena dried his hands on the towel and couldn't erase the smile from his face. Maybe this was the start of something new between him and John. It could be a sign that John was finally moving on from his broken relationship and ready to open his heart to someone new. The thought of them being a couple made Cena want to shriek like a little girl. The thought was absurd but none the less he was overjoyed. He wanted nothing more than to spend more of his nights in burning passion with John Hennigan.

Cena trotted out of the bathroom but stopped short when he saw John curled up into Randy and weeping spastically. Randy looked up with concern on his face and Cena's heart dropped. _No, please no. I want him to be mine!_ Cena hurried over to the bed his heart beat quickening with anxiety. Deep down he knew the cause of John's hysterics. He pried the smaller man away from Randy and held him in his arms swiping the sticky hair away from his tear streaked face.

"What's wrong baby?" Cena managed to ask. His worst fears were confirmed when Hennigan stuttered the name of his ex-lover. Cena couldn't help the anger that came over him and he shoved John away roughly spilling him to the floor in a heap.

"John, what's wrong with you!" Randy scolded as he crawled over the bed and onto the floor to kneel by Hennigan who was choking on his sobs. Randy tried to help John to his feet but Hennigan only entangled his own feet together and went sprawling again. Randy attempted a second time but when John got to his feet he shoved Randy away.

"Lem'alone!" He yelled and stumbled off to the bathroom holding his head and hitching with persistent sobs.

"What's wrong with me? He can't move on!" Cena shouted and grabbed the pillow behind him and threw it with violence across the room.

"John…he loved Mike." Randy stated chewing his lip and trying to decide whether or not to move any closer to Cena.

"How did he really love Mike if he could come around and see me!"

"Because John sex and love is not the same thing! Don't you see how much it hurts him? The difference is he regrets what he did with you, if he didn't give a shit about Mike then he wouldn't be in there bawling into the toilet right now!" Randy defended picking up the abused pillow and working it with his hands.

"He's drunk for fucks sake that's why he's blubbering it doesn't mean he regrets anything or else why would he have came back here with us!" Cena shot back his lips twisting in rage.

"Well we practically dragged him here…we shouldn't have." Randy hung his head feeling guilty over what had transpired.

"And just why did you do it then Randy? Why did you help drag him along? You used him to get to me so you're no better." Cena spat.

"You're right but at least I can admit it was a shitty thing to do. I wouldn't have to if you would give me a chance. Hennigan isn't the only one who needs to move on." Randy threw the pillow back at Cena who caught it and gripped it in a bear hug, his teeth bared in an irritated snarl, his eyes narrowed.

"Get out of my room you low life!" Cena shouted to Randy who looked wounded by the harsh words. He trudged around the room finding his scattered clothes and reluctantly dressing himself. He gathered Hennigan's clothes and pushed the bathroom door open and found Hennigan passed out clinging to the toilet bowl, his hair matted with vomit. Randy managed to dress John without destroying the whole bathroom in the process, just falling into the shower curtain and sending it askew. He picked John up and managed to carry him the same way Cena had earlier. Cena watched in aggravation as Randy crossed the room with John in his arms.

"Where the hell are you taking him?" Cena barked demanding an answer. Randy stopped and turned to stare him down coldly.

"You're an ass hole Cena. I might be on camera but when the cameras are shut off you take the prize. He's upset enough he doesn't need to wake up next to you in the morning and be torn apart all over again. I'm taking him to my room and putting him to bed."

The dull throb ached against his head as he swam slowly to wakefulness. He managed to open one eye into an uncertain sliver. The light pierced it like many needles and with a groan he squeezed it shut again willing the darkness to dull the pain. He flung his arm outward and jumped startled when it hit something. Forcing his eyes opened to be raped by the light he saw who his arm had landed on. _What the fuck?_ John rubbed his eyes and tried to figure out why the hell he was in bed with Randy Orton.

_Oh noes, what the hell? Lol. Was it good? Please let me know I like to hear your opinioins and reactions. :D_

_On another unrelated note...Shawn and JBL omg omg omg...yes I'm going to be fangirling over that for the rest of the week! Squeee! And Monday Taker is on Raw I haven't seen him since Smackdown moved I'm so overjoyed! *swoons* I'm going to kiss my tv when I see him! Anyways...*blush* lol *gives everyone the gift of Santino's unibrow*....lmao!_


	25. Chapter 25

_Thank you to everyone and many many apologies for the hideously long gap between updates. I tried to do this so many times and kept deleting it. It's pretty much how I wanted it now. I need to get back into my muses heads more…connect with them better. But anyway I will try not to take so long updating the next chapter. _

Chapter 25

John flopped back onto the pillow with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair and finding them knotted. Randy said he had washed his hair rather than have Hennigan roll around in his bed with dried vomit, but what the hell did he use to wash it with, Dawn? John closed his eyes and tried to remember the night before but nothing surfaced accept the same old feelings of guilt.

"So tell me why I'm in bed with you?" Hennigan croaked out to Randy who was yawning to wakefulness.

"Randy?" John shook his shoulder and Randy turned to his bed partner, his blue eyes connecting with Hennigan's brown sugar orbs. He sighed and muttered a 'huh?' forcing John to repeat the question once again.

"Oh…" Randy swallowed hard and cast his gaze shamefully downwards and suddenly became very interested in his fingernails. Hennigan narrowed his aching and protesting eyes at the third generation superstar.

"Did we? Oh shit." John murmured dropping his head in hand and willing away the dull throb of the hangover.

"We…did." Randy replied softly. By the tone of his voice and the fact that he was still way too intrigued by his fingernails John knew there was more. He nudged and prodded until Randy finally spilled out the truth and with the events of last night finally made clear John's face colored hot and rouge from embarrassment and anger. _Cena knows how I feel about us and he still took advantage of me! _However, Cena was not at the moment here, Randy was. John began to turn his rage onto Randy who was maybe not as much to blame as Cena, but still, he could have put a stop to it.

"And you did this, regardless of my feelings, to get to him!" John shouted then winced as his own voice echoed throbbing against his eardrums.

"I know, I know and I'm sorry." Randy met his eyes with John's and waited wondering if John was going to go off on him, but the scowl twisting his face softened and melted away.

"It's not your fault." John sighed, deflated. "I shouldn't have got drunk…and John should have known. Anyway I can tell you're genuinely sorry and you did pick me up off of my trashed ass last night. Thank you, by the way. I guess…I understand. I mean I understand wanting someone so bad and knowing…you'll never have them."

John dropped his head, his eyes stung, the precursor to tears that he was tired of shedding. He knew he needed to move on but it was easier said than done. His feelings still drifted to Mike no matter how much he tried to keep them away from that sore spot.

"You don't think I'll ever get him?" Randy asked quirking an eyebrow.

"It's not that there's anything wrong with you, it's just Cena…he's Cena."

"Well…fuck him. Maybe he's not the person I imagined him to be." Randy gave a shrug, but John knew he was only trying to fool himself. When he looked at Randy he saw a reflection of himself and the same desires of just wanting that certain person to accept them, or in Hennigan's case, to accept him back. _Mike is better off with Layfield than me. John takes care of him in ways I never could._

John startled when lips pressed softly and hesitantly against his. He pulled back to quick and hard banging his head against the headboard and sending stars dancing in front of his eyes.

"Randy…mind telling me what you're doing?"

"Sorry. I have no idea." Embarrassed Randy tossed the covers aside and hurried to the bathroom barricading him self within. John figured he better find his way to his own room and rustle up his tooth brush and scrub away the taste of bile and stale alcohol.

Unfortunately, Cena was in the elevator when the doors dinged open. All of John's anger boiled over and before he knew what had came over him he was in the elevator shoving Cena against the wall, nose to nose, all but biting his head off.

"Hey, John whoah!" Cena threw up his hands in a gesture of peace trying to ward of a confrontation in which Hennigan would not benefit from, being the smaller of the two.

"If you ever try to touch me again I will make you sorry you ever saw me. I told you once and more than once John!" Hennigan bellowed before surprising himself with his own strength and launching Cena off his feet and onto his ass in the hallway. "Stay the fuck out of my life!"

The elevator doors closed with Cena watching Hennigans' face twist into a scowl and glimmer with tears of rage and hurt. John leaned against the elevator wall and watched Cena's stunned face disappear as the doors slid shut, wishing Cena would really disappear for ever.

"I have a meeting." Layfield snapped, annoyed that his partner had slept through the alarm. He sat up in bed combing his fingers through his chestnut hair and willing his lips not to snarl up in anger. Mike didn't even move, mumble, or snore. "Wake up damn it!"

Before he could control his fist, he found it connecting with the small of Mike's back…but it did work. His younger counterpart was up and squinting at the clock, taking a moment to realize he had slept let.

Hissing curses under his breath Mike hurried out of bed and to the kitchen where he should have already had John's breakfast waiting for him. It was a ritual he should have gotten down in his sleep by now. He had screwed it up once before and paid for it with a sore jaw from the behemoth slap John had laid against his face. Trying to not let the fear of punishment scatter his thoughts like leaves on the wind, Mike pulled open a cabinet and grabbed a pan placing it on the immaculate stainless steel burner. He gave a quick glance over his shoulder and found himself puffing out a relieved breath that he didn't even realize he had been holding.

_How the hell did I sleep through the alarm? John's right…I'm an idiot._

His legs felt wobbly from the stress of displeasing his lover and he took a moment to lean on the marble counter and steady himself. One hand disappeared behind his back and rubbed at it hoping to massage away some of the soreness. The punch to the spine wasn't the only thing causing his back to throb. John had gotten increasingly rougher and more violent in bed and Mike was often left in pain feeling ravaged and half dead from the force of his lover. Often times he ended up with bruises blackening his ass and finding it hard or near impossible to sit the next day. Last night was one of those nights and his back still ached from John pounding into him until he thought he would collapse.

Shaking those thoughts away and forcing his focus back on John's breakfast, which was where it belonged, he reached for the fridge and pulled to door open snatching the carton of eggs. He stopped as anxiety shot through his body...the carton felt much too light. Flipping the top open Mike's face drained of color. His chest suddenly became tight constricting with panic. _What kind of dumbass puts an empty egg carton in the refrigerator? Me, that's who. _What was he supposed to do about John's breakfast? Thoughts raced through his mind confusing him as to make a simple decision to go to the store and buy some or make something else. The panic was to overwhelming for him to straighten his thoughts out. _Calm down, please calm down…_

Mike sat at the table bent over it like a mourner and tried to get his breathing back to normal and to keep his nerves from jangling. After a few minutes of fighting with it the panic ebbed away leaving Mike feeling tired and depleted all over again as if he hadn't even went to sleep the night before. He swiped the back of his hand over his forehead smearing it with cold sweat.

He wasn't sure what was happening but this wasn't the first time he had experienced this. There had been a few times when he was with Hennigan that his anxieties would get away from him but since being with John it was happening more and more. He knew John didn't mean for him to feel that way, he didn't mean for him to be scared, he just wanted him to do things right. If that meant a slap or two was needed to straighten him out then it was okay. John loved him, this was for his own good.

Their relationship was a few months old yet Mike had found himself doubting once or twice when John had first struck him, over his clumsiness at spilling wine all over the dinner table. He had sank into a depressed state immediately, his fragile psyche shattered by one simple movement, but really it was nothing. It was only a slap, Mike realized that he should have taken it better instead of malfunctioning over it and falling into a funk. John had made it up anyway, buying him gifts and showering him with affection until his negative feelings drifted away, replaced once more by the certainty that he was loved.

That's exactly why Mike had to be sure to please John, to show him that love back, and to receive John's praise and affections that he desired like a drug. He assured himself that this was okay, John had a hard time showing his feelings, they just needed coaxed out and Mike could do that by pleasing him.

With that in mind Mike finally got his thoughts together and decided to go to their neighbor's a floor down and see if he could borrow some eggs from them. He didn't have time to go to the store and get home before John was out of the shower and truth be told he really didn't like going out by himself anyway. It was just terrifying that he would have to make a choice without John, that someone might see his bruises, that someone might see just how unstable he was becoming. Mike ran his fingers through his hair which was growing longer—John wanted it long—and was still not used to it.

Moments later Mike was at the neighbors' door feeling nervous and exposed and stumbling over his words just to ask for some damn eggs. The woman disappeared back into her penthouse, up turning her nose at the young man in the jeans and sweatshirt. Cursing under his breath Mike tried another neighbor and that one was a little more gracious. Mike waited at the door for the man to come back with two eggs needed to scramble, and not too long or they'd be too tough.

As time slipped by Mike got more and more impatient fearing John would at any moment be out of the shower, dressed, and yelling for him and finding him awol. _How long does it take to get eggs from the kitchen, come on!_ Mike felt a major headache forming and pulling at the backs of his eyes. Just when he was about to turn away and try another door the neighbor reappeared and handed Mike two eggs before giving him a concerned glance.

Mike played it off and hurried back to John who would hopefully not be out of the shower yet. After making it into the kitchen he let out a sigh of relief, only to nearly rocket out of his shoes when John was suddenly behind him demanding to know where he had gone and why he still had no breakfast on the table. Mike's hands clenched over the two eggs he still held and he spun around to face the irate Texan trying to make a sentence but finding all the words jumbled. His hands clenched too tight around the delicate eggshells and he felt them crackle. _Oh shit…_

John needed to do nothing more than leer down at Mike to have him shuddering. He was in control of the situation immediately. Control was his baby and he knew it inside and out. Though he was pushed nearly to the brink by Mike's idiocy this particular morning he knew he had to reign in some of his rage at least. He didn't want things to escalate too quickly, he wasn't sure how much Mike would put up with before thoughts of leaving seemed the better option than staying and being his bitch.

With sick pleasure Layfield towered over Mike, backing him into the counter and drawing a squeak from him when he realized he was cornered with no where to go like a roach about to get squashed underfoot.

"Michael, where is my breakfast? More importantly, where were you just now?"

John knew Mike couldn't answer him. The twitch of his pretty blue eyes and the wide horror of them told John he was in the grips of panic. He looked ready to shit himself and that thoroughly amused the Texan, his lips even twitched fighting with a smirk.

"Are you gonna answer me boy?" The butt of his hand crashed hard against Mike's face and he knew when he came back from his meeting a new bruise would be puffed up there, just a companion to keep the rest company. Mike was still not saying anything, just whimpering like a sorry puppy. John reached around and pulled the empty skillet off of the stove burner. He knew he shouldn't do it but that dark side of him wanted to hear the thick clang of metal against skull, to see the knot well up under the greasy hair that hung over Mike's forehead, and to watch maybe a trickle of blood drip down his temple.

It wasn't really necessary, he knew Mike wasn't out cheating on him or some crap like that, he didn't have the balls to. He didn't know exactly what Mike was up to, just that it was not fixing his breakfast which did legitimately get under his skin. But Mike was already afraid and obedient, if his fear of pissing John off to the point that he left him alone was not enough, the threat of physical abuse left no room for defiance. He doubted Mike was even able to defy him in the state he was in, dependent and eager to please, not very stable emotionally or psychologically. John could watch the cracks increase weekly, if not daily. _I don't care if he doesn't need this…I want it. That's all that matters._

Mike didn't have time to get his arms up as a sheild, he didn't expect John to actually hit him with the utensil, in fact his arm had been dropping as if ready to lower the weapon and even discard it. But obviously that was not the case. Mike found himself on his ass cowered against the cabinents, dazed, his headache throbbing harder than ever. A strange image of JR pounded through his mind yelling over Lawler's trademark hyena shriek: Bah Gawd! He's got 'em with the Frying Pan From Hell! What a slobberknocker!

Mike clutched at his head as John straddled over him smirking down at him, the image of the Texan's thin face and harsh glare piercing through him and doubling blearily.

"What were you doing!" John bellowed, the veins at his temples poking out in their rage.

"Ge-ge-getting you eh--"

"I don't care." John spat. "Just don't let it happen again unless you want a thorough ass whuppin."

John sauntered away, his boots clacking against the tile floor. Mike uncurled his hands and burst into tears, shards of eggshell and mingled with the slimy whites and the broken yolks dripping from his fingers.

_Sorry if there are a lot of errors I'm not trying to be careless but I'm really tired. I'm going to read over this tomorrow and fix any errors I can find because yes I do care about the grammatical and/or spelling in my stories lol. Anywhoo…review please. Also just a quick note, if anyone also read the Chris/Adam pairing…the violent one…well please don't think I'm a violent person, since JBL has brought brutality to this story as well. This fic is basically all on the shoulders of my Miz muse and this is just how it goes. As for the other one, it was done as a request from another sight and I didn't intend for it to get as…evil…as it did. I got taken over by Jericho muse…he did it. But trust me that I'm not a violent person in fact I work at a shelter for battered women…which may account for why stuff like this sometimes works its way into my stories. Anyway enough rambling, I'm tired and running off about nonsense. Goodnight and please comment if you feel this chapter was worthy of a few words, lol. *gives everyone gifts of Boogeyman's bag of worms and exclusive luscious pictures of Shawn Micheals.* Lol!!_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Be prepared for intense emotions on all levels. This was very draining…but it was so worth it. I finally feel back on top of this. Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers…I would list you all one by one as usual but to be honest I'm really tired. Just know that it means a lot to me and I sincerely thank you all. Now nuff babbling. **_

Chapter 26

The more Cena saw John and Randy together the more annoyed he became. He was trying to heed Randy's advice and let the Shaman of Sexy go once and for all but he couldn't help feeling a pang of jealousy when he saw Randy and John they day after their little threesome chatting over breakfast in the hotel lobby or playing cards on one of the crates backstage. They suddenly seemed closer than before and Cena secretly wondered if he had somehow caused them to turn to each other, driving them both away for different reasons, only to have them find each other. Maybe that was for the better. The good part was he didn't have to put up with Randy's constant pestering now, but even that he somehow missed. Had he gotten more connected with Randy than he had even known?

Cena shrugged and slipped on his shoes before heading out of the locker room just to cross the two people who were on his mind out in the hallway. He decided to ignore them as they were engaged in conversation and he tried not to scowl.

"Cody and Ted both have food poisoning so creative had to overhaul our stuff tonight." Randy said to Hennigan as they walked into the locker room, bags slung over their shoulders. John slipped his sunglasses upwards putting them to rest in his hair. They both tossed their bags onto the bench and started to undress and pull out their ring gear.

Randy stopped and leaned against the lockers watching John as he stripped from his snug fitting t-shirt and jeans, revealing his god-like body, a physique that looked as though it had been chiseled from stone. Randy's fingers twitched and itched wanting to find themselves roaming over the muscular landscape. Instead he just crossed his arms over his chest and watched John stretch twisting his back from side to side, rolling his shoulders, and then bending to touch his toes in naught but his briefs. Suddenly, the temperature in the locker room had sky rocketed. Randy decided it was time for him to look away and pulled his trunks out of his bag. His bottle of oil that he always used before going out to the ring caught up in the garment and tumbled to the floor. Steamy thoughts crossed Randy's mind as he picked the bottle up and placed it on the bench.

Randy peeled of his shirt and felt the ache of his muscles as he did so. He conjured the feel of John's hands massaging oily circles into his shoulders and back, pressing harder to work out the toughest kinks, working the muscles under his fingers and rolling his palms into Randy's spine. Normally Cody would do this but his young side-kick was probably kneeling before the toilet, his face devoid of color as his stomach churned with sickness, and Ted was probably banging the door down to get in before a royal mess was made. Anyway, John's hands would surely be better than Cody's which were always cold and clammy and clumsy. _John's hands would feel much better warm and expertly kneading, caressing, tracing…_

John had completed his Morrison look and had been standing for a few moments watching Randy who had apparently got lost in his thoughts. He was standing facing the lockers with his trunks hanging idly from one hand and for a few minutes he hadn't moved to put them on. John eyed Randy's body looking it up and down more hungrily than he had eyed anyone for quite some time, and then the bottle on the bench caught his attention.

John approached the object of his fascination quietly and picked it up turning it upside down and squeezing the shimmering liquid into the palm of his hand. He slipped behind Randy and whispered lowly.

"Need some help?"

Randy startled with a 'huh' and a jerk and when John's oiled hands started to work his shoulders the reply he gave was a soft moan. He sank into John's touch and it was just as good as he imagined and as John worked at his tight muscles other parts of his body became tighter.

John's lips met Randy's shoulders and left delicate, ticklish, kisses against the slick skin. He reached back to the bench for the bottle and coated his hands with more oil and took them to Randy's lower back working out a few knots before the searching hands slid around his sides and up his chest finding Randy's nipples erect. He played with them for a few moments before moving slowly downwards over his chest, belly, and finally slipping past his waist band.

"Oh, John…" Randy groaned breathlessly as Johns' hands slid over his cock gliding warm oil over the throbbing hardness. Randy thrust his hips working into Johns' fist, the tips of Johns' fingers of his other hand played with Randy's head leaving soft, ticklish, touches until he felt it ooze sticky with pre-cum. Randy grunted as he came coating John's fist and spurting the locker door in front of him. He collapsed back on John who laughed.

"You like?"

Randy opened his eyes, not having realized they were squeezed tightly closed in the first place. His heart hammered in his chest and his head swam with pleasure.

"Oh yeah." Randy said shakily working to calm his breathing. He turned ready to say more but his words were forgotten when he saw John leaning against the tiled wall licking the semen and oil from on of his dripping fingers, his other hand was between his legs his fingers tracing the outline of his own very apparent hard-on as it strained at the snugness of his fur-trimmed pants.

"This is—is not a good time to get…" Randy trailed off once again losing his train of thought as John worked his cock out of his pants and played with it, slicking it with Randy's cum. "Well…maybe if we hurry—"

Mike stayed on the kitchen floor for a while even after John had left, slamming the door in his wake, leaving Mike with the impression of a furious thunderstorm. He leaned back against the cabinets and lightly touched his fingers to the knot forming on his head and drew them back finding them smeared crimson. He closed his eyes and tears washed over his face as John's words rang in his ears and the sickening feeling that he had let his Texan lover down sent his nerves to jangling once again. If he didn't please him then he might find himself face to face with the much feared scenario—that John would find someone else to meet his needs just as Hennigan had—and then Mike would find himself alone again.

Mike forced himself up from the floor and washed his hands of the mess he had created with the eggs then set to cleaning the stuff from the floor before it dried. He scrubbed at it on his hands and knees making sure it was all gone. Even after he found no traces of it left it still nagged at him so he cleaned it again, and again, and again obsessing over it until his fingers ached.

Sighing he leaned against the island his eyes still drawn to that spot on the floor, the corner of his mouth twitching, feeling that it was still not good enough. _Stop thinking about it, it's fine…it's fine…but what if John doesn't think so? _He threw himself to his knees banging them painfully on the tile as he scrubbed maniacally over the 'dirty' tiles and then beyond those until he had cleaned the whole floor, but still it wasn't enough. He dragged out every cleaning product he could find and spent hours making sure the whole kitchen was perfect going over everything more than once, re-arranging the canisters in an orderly way, making sure they lined up exactly, cleaning every last bit of everything inside and out. The need to make it all perfect burned through him and overwhelmed his mind to the point of madness.

_Make it stop, God make it stop!_

He sank into a chair tired physically and mentally but his thoughts continued to spiral around this one thing and he had to do whatever he could to appease his out-of-control mind and bring a sense of calm to his nerves.

More hours were spent straightening up anything in the penthouse that was barely out of place, dusting things that weren't dusty, throwing clothes out of drawers and folding them again and arranging them by color. _What's happening to me? What is it? No, that's not right stupid it's not right you have to fold it this way, it has to be perfect or else, or else, it has to it has to…everything will be okay if it's all in order, it just has to be right, it has to be in order._

Time was forgotten and nothing else mattered until anxiety finally floated away, whatever wire had been crossed in his mind finally righted itself, allowing him to stop running around like a madman. He fell back onto the bed sweaty and shaking from the whole ordeal and his stomach nagged at him reminding him that he had neglected to feed it all day. His body felt like stone, heavy and dead, but he managed to get up and drag his feet to the kitchen.

He found some junk food that he didn't need and piled it onto the bed staring down at it wondering why he had dragged it all out. There was no way he could eat that much without getting sick but it didn't seem to matter. He felt like nothing was in his control anymore, everything just happened out of impulse or fear or some futile attempt to calm his raging anxieties.

He thought about John coming home and hoped he would be pleased with what he had done. He hoped it would make up for his ignorance and as he worried over it he opened up everything on the bed and impulsively shoveled it into his mouth not really seeming to notice that he was doing it, as though his mind and body were two separate entities neither aware of the other. How much time passed by he didn't know only that he suddenly blinked out of his daze to find empty bags and boxes littering the bed.

He grabbed the depleted packages hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him, there was no way he could have ate it all, no way he was that disgusting, but it was true. The guilt hit him hard and in his minds eye he saw his naked body exaggerated from reality but accurate in his mind, fat and nasty because he couldn't control his urges. He imagined John looking at him and grimacing, equally repulsed at what he saw. Everything he had wolfed down suddenly crept up his throat and he dashed out of the bedroom choking it back until he was safe in front of the toilet and it came up with a guttural cough.

He found himself groaning into the toilet, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his mind once again demanding things of him. _It all has to come out you filthy pig, cough it up, cough it up you're disgusting! _He heaved a few more times before his stomach began to settle itself but he couldn't let it he had to be sure it was all gone. _Cough it up you're so disgusting, cough it up. _He knelt trying to make himself sick again and finally grew annoyed when it wasn't working and jammed his fingers down his throat gagging and spitting into the toilet until there was nothing but saliva and blood and a bitter taste in his mouth.

Falling back against the bathtub Mike wandered vaguely what in the hell he was doing but his mind had an answer and shot that back at him again and again. _You're making it right, you're making everything right. _

After a few moments Mike was able to get to his feet though he felt trembly and weak. He cleared the trash off of the bed disposing of it in the garbage can and once again feeling nauseated by what he had done. He tried to bury the packages down at the bottom of the trash bag to hide them from John and from himself, although as much as he wanted to pretend they weren't there, he still knew they were.

Nearly in a fatigue induced trance he found his way back to the bed which he had made and re-made countless times earlier that day. He collapsed onto it and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep. He was only awakened when a familiar voice drifted to his ears. John leaned over his ill looking lover and kissed his lips softly, grimacing when he tasted Mike's sour breath.

"Hey sweetheart." John said into his ear. He stroked Mike's sweaty hair back from his forehead and cradled the young man's face in his hands, knowing how much the gentle, loving touches meant to him. John was smart and knew that he had to reassure Mike sometimes, he had to give him the affection and praise that he needed, or else he would come completely undone. It was a delicate game of wounding and nursing, and now was the time for nursing. Mike mumbled something incoherent in his sleep and John watched as a tear squeezed out and hung itself in Mike's eyelashes. "Don't cry baby, you did a great job. Mike…can you wake up darlin'?"

Mike pried his eyes open but could barely keep them that way. He fought with the heaviness of the sleep his body demanded after such a rough day, but for John he kept trying, though the Texan's face grew unfocused and fuzzy.

"You know I don't mean to fly off at'cha…you know I just want to help you…to be right. I love you, you know I love you or else I wouldn't care. I noticed what you did today, you did a good job."

"I-I did? I did a good job?" Mike mumbled through the sleep that weighed heavy on him.

"Yes you did. I love you Michael." John said and pressed a kiss to Mike's lips. The young man was taken back in the arms of sleep and as he drifted away he felt the comfort of John's words and the giddiness of knowing he had pleased him.

Layfield watched as Mike's lips crept up into a peaceful sleepy smile.

"Good boy." John smirked patting Mike on the head, knowing he was too deep in slumber to notice. "Good dog."

_**Damn I'm drained after writing this, talk about emotional…up and down and all around. John/Randy and holy crap, then poor Mike…and then…freakin' JBL. I need a nap…lol…but on a more positive not I now feel like I'm back in the groove of this fic. I'm sorry if it was hard to read but…I just do what the musi say. What do you guys think? Review? Thank you…I give you all lots of hugs for being such loyal readers. *hugs***_


	27. Chapter 27

**_This turned out soooo long…it was actually longer than this *gasp* and I have to chop it up. So thank you for reading and reviewing: Dark Kaneanite, Esha Napoleon, takers dark lover, JoMoFan_spot, Anonymous Punk, and Nefatiri._**

**Chapter 27**

After the show John and Randy met up in the parking garage avoiding each others' eye contact with awkward jerking motions and each feeling their faces color with heat. It was all so sudden on both their parts and both felt equally odd about what had went down earlier with Randys' oil and Johns' hands.

Randy started to tap his foot in nervousness and the sound echoed in the grayness of the near empty parking garage. John cast his gaze downwards and found a discarded cigarette butt that seemed to take up all of his attention as he prodded at it with the pointed toe of his boot.

"So um…we kinda had sex in the locker room." Randy finally stated with anxious laughter.

"Obviously." John thumbed his sunglasses up on his nose, then took them off and fiddled with them, frowning when one of the rhinestones came loose.

"Well look I…just want to…I mean…what the hell?" Orton leaned back on the bumper of his rental and dragged a hand over his short shorn hair before looking back up to John, their gazes locking, before both burst into laughter.

"Yeah, what the hell is exactly what I'm thinking." John said coughing out a last bit of chuckles and wiping at his eyes.

"Well the way I see it at least, it makes perfect sense." Randy nodded drawing his face into a serious, thoughtful, expression that almost had John in a laughing fit all over again.

"It does?"

"It does. See we've both been very frustrated about relationships and all that shit so we kind of have y'know…tension…and we also have an understanding of each other so I guess…it all just…sex." Randy finished the corners of his mouth twitched and he quirked an eyebrow at John hoping he understood what Randy meant.

"It felt great to let go like that I have to admit. I just keep wondering if I did the right thing with Mike and I—I miss him like hell and then I see him bruised up and I know that fucker Layfield is hitting on him." Johns' hands balled into tight, white knuckled fists as he thought of the Texan playing such games with his ex-lover, hurting him, twisting him around his little finger, pulling his strings like a puppet. "Then there's Cena. I'm still pissed about all that but I think I might have finally gotten through to him."

"Maybe." Randy replied with a sad little shrug. "I've learned to stop trying with him I guess. He's never going to give me a chance I suppose…unless I steal you pants and grow my hair longer."

"There's only one Shaman of Sexy." John turned his lips into a sexy pout and tossed his hair around. "But you know what? You come pretty close." He nudged Randy in the arm and he grinned, pleased with the compliment. Although Randy wasn't Mike it was surprisingly nice to have someone who was becoming a good friend like Randy. John had not fully realized how much he missed the easy companionship.

"So you wanna hang out or something?"

"Yeah but preferably not in a parking garage." John ran his hands through his hair and turned up his nose I disgust. "There's shit dripping into my hair." He turned his face upward towards the shadowy underbelly of the parking deck above him. He squinted his eye shut and rubbed at it harshly when the annoying drip plummeted into it.

"Point made." Randy pulled the car key from his pocket and jangled it. "Follow me, I know a good place we can grab a bite to eat and a drink or two." He ducked into the car and watched in the mirror as John headed to his. _It's nice to have someone who doesn't burn you at every turn._

They never talked about having a serious relationship. It was unspoken yet known between both of them that they were friends, better yet friends who had amazing sex as a benefit. None of it had to do with deeper feelings or a heavy relationship. After Randy getting kicked to the curb by Cena and the tragedy of Hennigans' last relationship this new endeavor was refreshing to both of them.

John felt more normalcy in his life than he had for quite some time. He and Randy fit together better than anyone would have thought. Once they had taken the time to get to know each other it was as if they had always known each other, that cliché that people love to throw around had become true. At first it was a little saddening to John because he was reminded that once upon a time he and Mike had also shared that strong sort of connection. But that time was long ago and was history which would not repeat itself.

Nearly six months after the bitter break up between him and Mike, John liked to think that it was finally behind him. That didn't mean forgetting, it just meant being able to let go, and according to John he had let go—although Randy often saw it otherwise. It didn't take Randy long to notice the same look that always creased Johns' features with sadness when something reminded him of Mike. Randy didn't push the subject with John. They didn't talk about Mike unless John brought it up and likewise John never talked about Cena unless Randy brought him up. It was just another one of their mutual, unspoken understandings that they shared with each other. Both were trying hard to forget about past fuck ups so it was best to talk about them as little as possible.

Just as John continued to have issues with his feelings towards Mike, Randy still carried feelings for Cena despite his best efforts to leave the situation be. He was sure to get nowhere but into more hurt and that was something he didn't want so he tried his damnedest to refrain from interaction with Cena. The man had already snubbed him many times before and going back for more would just be a form of self mutilation, only on the inside.

He found himself enjoying his time with Hennigan more than he would have ever expected and counted him as his closest friend, even above Cody and Ted, who were drifting away from Randy anyway and becoming more involved in their own immature relationship…which mainly consisted of fighting and make-up sex. But, each to his own was what Randy thought about that.

He was just glad that he didn't feel the need to plead for Cena's attention anymore. Sure he wouldn't mind if the handsome champ paid him a compliment or smiled in his general vicinity but it no longer scalded his heart as it once had. Hennigan was an excellent friend and he found their relationship was exactly what he—what both of them—needed at this point in their lives. Long term, probably not, but now it was perfect.

Some in the locker room were even jealous at the ease of their relationship. Too many were caught up in love triangles and bitterness and scorned lovers. It made some of them angry to see two of their own actually having a decent if not picturesque relationship where both were happy without having to worry about the deep bonds of the heart and soul or the fragility of those three little words.

Mike was one of those who observed John and Randy from the outside. He never felt bitter or angry, he just watched occasionally curious as to what his ex-lover was up to. So many more things took up his thinking time, too many other strings pulled on his emotions, countless other anxieties weighed down his mind to really stop and think hard on the situation enough to develop any sort of opinions or feelings about the matter. It just seemed like a game, people with people walking around in their lives never really seeing anything at all.

Tonight was a night Mike would get another chance to disappear into the sidelines and just watch everyone else doing nothing. Raw was in New York and Layfield wanted him to come along for tonight's taping. As much as Mike didn't want to go, because these days stepping outside the door got his nerves to rattling, he knew not to protest. John didn't ask much of him and after all he was his boyfriend and should be there. It probably made John upset when he went to shows alone only to see nearly everyone else with their significant other while his stayed at home or in the hotel room and hid under the covers like a frightened rabbit.

That was exactly what Mike was contemplating now, but he knew he wasn't going to back out of going. He pulled the covers around himself, clad in his underwear, cold and wanting to hide. He hated seeing himself or the thought of anyone else seeing him, especially naked with all flaws bared. When John walked out of the bathroom Mike pulled the covers tighter, letting them tuck away his ugliness.

"Mike, get dressed." John said with a smile. He reached out to caress his lovers' battered face and Mike flinched away so hard he slammed the back of his skull into the headboard sending the picture above to clattering and tilting lopsided. "Michael darlin' don't be afraid of me. You know I love you."

Mike nodded rubbing at the back of his head and combing through his hair with his fingers. It was growing long enough for John to tangle his fingers in it and pull it during sex or enraged outbursts—which was sometimes one in the same. John found his fingers' in Mike's hair just now, stroking lovingly rather than painfully.

"You gonna say it back or you stop lovin' me?" John pouted and filled his eyes with hurt that his lover might have lost feelings for him. _Play the game John, play the game._

"No John I love you!" Mike threw his arms around Johns' neck and planted himself there repeating the phrase over and over until John felt his annoyance escalating and his fingers twitched wanting to ball into a fist and make an impact.

"Alright, alright Mike!" John tried to prod him away without being rough about it but when that didn't work he shoved the young man away and Mike toppled off the bed with a crash. John kept his scowl on the inside and grabbed Mike from the floor setting him to his feet harshly. The young mans' eyes were wide and terrified wondering what he had done this time to set off his temperamental lover. Apologies spilled out of his mouth babbled and nearly non-coherent.

"Nothin' just was wrinklin' my shirt boy—darlin'." John corrected taking a moment to bring the tone of his voice back down. He was naturally loud and being quiet was a chore, but he had just realized he was shouting and he didn't want Mike cringing on his arm in front of everyone later, flinching and stuttering at every little move. "Come here sweetheart, you know I didn't mean to. I'm just a big rough neck…but I don't mean it."

John wrapped Mike up in a warm hug before letting him go and instructing him once again to get dressed. John disappeared into the bathroom again leaving Mike standing in front of the closet perplexed at the choices. _Maybe John would like it if I wore that…I don't think I can fit into those jeans anymore…something baggy…but John doesn't like me to look sloppy…_

When John came to check on Mike five minutes or so later the young man was still standing in the same spot John had left him flicking his eyes over the clothes in the closet anxiously, the tips of his fingers quivering. _He's really losing it. The smallest things aggravate him and put him on the verge of a panic attack. Maybe I should loosen up on him a little…but what would that do for me? _ John leaned on the door frame watching Mike as he became overwhelmed at the simple task of getting dressed. John smirked, watching as the panic crept up slowly turning his face pale and his skin slick with cold sweat. Each week Mike seemed to sink lower and lower and it had become a sort of game with John to find out what new thing was going to throw his nerves into a frenzy. It was cruel, John knew it was cruel, but he loved it anyway.

Mike jumped in shock when John suddenly held clothes in front of his face. He was so wrapped up in his contemplations of wardrobe that he hadn't noticed. The simple action had sent his heart to thundering up in his throat.

"Wear this. For me…I like it."

Mike did as he was told and put the clothes on. When John steered him to the full length mirror in the bathroom he felt like throwing up. Everything was so tight and it made him look disgusting and pudgy—no not pudgy but down right huge. He could already feel eyes roaming over him and hearing thoughts whisper about how nasty he looked, about how horrible and ugly he was.

"I-it's too—I don't…I look--"

John watched Mike's reflection in the mirror as he freaked out over his appearance. There was in reality nothing clingy about anything he was wearing. In fact everything seemed a couple sizes too big because he had been shedding weight. John knew Mike had developed worse self esteem issues and a distorted body image but John didn't go out of his way to reassure his lover that he was fine. In fact, he sometimes helped it along by small things such as turning up his nose when Mike took his shirt off or slapping his ass and making a supposedly flirtatious comment about it which he knew Mike would take the wrong way.

"It'll do." John replied with a slightly disgusted sniffle. Mike's faced burned rosy with embarrassment.

"I look so horrible." Mike wailed and burst in to sudden tears as John combed his stringy hair that he rarely bothered to wash anymore. John pulled Mike back into him, squeezing him tightly, letting the young man feel the beginnings of his hard on. _Insulting and hurting someone just tends to get me excited Mike…_

"What do I think? Hmm Mike…what do I think about it?" John asked, his hot breath whispered against Mike's ear and caused his tears to lessen. A shudder ran through the younger mans body.

"I…I guess you think I'm okay." Mike hung his head feeling shame and despair sitting heavily down upon him. His glance moved slowly across the tiled floor to the inviting white porcelain of the toilet. He felt the familiar sickness building and the muscles in his abdomen cramp and spasm. He pulled away from John and flung himself in front of the toilet dry heaving into it, vomiting the nothingness that he had eaten all day.

"Mike…" John sighed and stopped himself from an eye roll. Why was he to care anyway if his dumb-ass boyfriend wanted to cough up his insides. It was only another sign of John's victory after all. He waited a few more moments as Mike groaned into the toilet bowl holding his midsection. "Are you done?" John asked quirking an eyebrow.

Mike pressed his forehead against the toilet seat and cried silently.

"Don't make me go please…I…I know it's selfish. I know you want me to be there wi-with you but I can't! I can't please, please don't make me!"

"You are selfish." John responded once again dragging Mike up to his feet. He gripped his chin and his fingers sank into the flesh like teeth, biting. Mike closed his blood-shot eyes too shamed to take responsibility for the anger twisting John's face into a glare. "I don't ask that much of you darlin'. All I want is to have you beside me. People start to talk, sayin' I don't treat you right, sayin' you're gonna leave and all kinds of bullshit. But what are they supposed to think!" John bellowed, embracing his rage. His brown eyes turned stormy, his lips quivered with insult, his fingers dug in harder making five fingerprint bruises. "My own fucking boyfriend won't even be seen with me!"

Mike was in tears again.

"I'm sorry." He whined pathetically sniveling and begging.

"You're sorry. You always are aren't you? But you do things again and again." John released his grip on Mike's face and slammed his fist down onto the vanity sending the bottle of soap clattering into the sink basin.

"I know. I'm stupid. I don't know how to act—I-I d-duh-don't know a-anything I can't ever do a-a-any anything right! Don't be upset John p-puh-please don't I'll go I promise I'll go…I'm okay now…" Despite Mike's declaration that he was okay now his stomach rebelled on him again hitching and jerking painfully. John nearly tore off the door to the medicine cabinet and knocked things from the cluttered shelves, pill bottles and boxes plummeted to the floor, the rubbing alcohol lost its lid and doused the spacious bathroom in pungent odor that was now making both of them gag. John dragged Mike out into the bedroom and shoved a roll of Rolaids into his chest.

"Take these and…" He grabbed Mikes' old fedora from the dresser where it hung crookedly from a lampshade collecting dust. "Wear this for fucks sake, you never have enough decency to even shower anymore. Look like you wallowed in a vat of bacon grease." John shoved the hat down onto Mike's head sending a jet of pain down his neck. The young man said nothing, just wiped at his leaking, pink, eyes and fumbled with the package of Rolaids. John left to get his shoes, when he came back Mike was still battling with the ant-acids, his trembling fingers failing at the task of opening them.

"You have to be smarter than the package." John growled and snatched the little cylinder away tearing it open for the inept idiot in front of him. He jerked Mike's chin downwards and opened his mouth and popped a couple of the chalky tablet into the gaping orifice. Mike chewed the tablets and swallowed fighting to even keep from gagging it back up.

John sat back on the bed looking at Mike. He looked like a joke wearing that fedora, it represented something he wasn't even close to being anymore—something he never really was in the first place. Under the sequined, flaming hat that once represented a persona with cockiness, confidence, wit, and independence was this pathetic excuse for a man snuffling his nose and watching John with wet eyes rimmed with dark violet.

"I love you Mike." John said again, only this time he meant it. He loved Mike Mizanin because he was exactly what he wanted, he was exactly the person he could control, mold, keep on a leash, and choke him with that leash whenever he wanted, knowing full well the whimpering little puppy would greet him at the door with all of his love waggling his tail and licking at the hands that injured him. John got up and tilted Mike's chin upwards kissing him gently, taking time to actually feel the softness of his lips and the taste of his kiss. When he pulled away Mike stood on his toes looking disappointed and wanting more of his affections. "Let's go." John wrapped an arm around Mike's shoulders and led him out of the penthouse.

Once at the arena John parked Mike at a bench outside the locker room and to the young mans dismay left him alone outside. He tried to send his mind elsewhere, tried to calm himself, tried to picture something serene like a beach or a sunset or a peaceful lake but it didn't work. He was seriously wishing for some alcohol to drown out all of his anxieties an just for a few blissful, unconscious hours, give him peace and quiet. He sank back against the wall slump shouldered and weary. He took his fedora off and placed it on the bench beside him and put the hood of his sweatshirt up in order to hide away in its shadows.

He watched familiar people go in and out of the locker room passing him by as though he was a ghost or a forgotten memory. Very few of them even glanced at him, the ones who did seemed either disgusted or uninterested. Feeling worse than ever Mike closed his eyes and stretched out on the bench hoping that he might fall asleep and wake up to find all of this a nasty dream and that he was back with Hennigan at the beginning of their relationship, before everything went off the deep end. _I would do it all so different if I ever had a chance to redo things with John…_ But he did not have that chance and now he was with another John and at least as unpredictable as this John was he could count on one solidarity: that he would be there, with a clenched fist or a kiss it didn't really matter, he would be there.

Layfield sneered into his locker as he listened to the whispered voices in the locker room and felt the heated glares at his back. Some of his colleagues were decent enough to go on about their business not caring about John Layfeild or his business and after all, why should they? What he did with his boyfriend was none of their concern. John turned away from his locker knotting his mint-colored tie. A few faces turned towards him staring or glaring.

"Ya'll have a problem?" John smoothed his tie and straightened his cuffs. His gaze regarded the men in various stages of dress and undress littering the locker room. One by one the few who were bold enough to challenge him with their eyes dropped their heads and returned to lacing their boots or stretching. "I thought so." Layfield said with a pompous little laugh.

"Did you see Mike?" Ken whispered to Kofi making sure Layfield didn't hear.

"Yeah mon, he be lookin' like a punchin' bag." Kofi shook his head back and forth, his braids flopping with the motion.

"Why would anyone stay with an ass-hole like that?" Ken hissed under his breath, his eyebrows drawing in confusion.

"You be askin' the wrong mon." Kofi replied bending to adjust his banana-colored leg warmers.

"If he hasn't left the bastard by now he must like it." Mike Knox put in running his thick fingers through his beard. The action drew dual looks of disgust from Kofi and Ken.

"I don't know if I'd say that." Ted put in joining in on the hushed conversation. "I mean look at him, he looks pretty damn tore up. Somethin's wrong with him. I mean in the head. He's fucked up, remember how he was with Hennigan all freaky and crap?" Ted shrugged. "You never know guys, maybe he needs put in his place once in a while."

Knox wobbled his head in indecisive thought perhaps agreeing with Ted and then again maybe not. Ken and Kofi mimicked each other again both giving Ted glares of disapproval one in chocolate brown the other in watery blue.

"No one should get beat on." Kofi said buttoning his breakaway pants. "But what business is it of ours?"

Now all three men agreed with Kofi and so the subject was dropped. In the corner of the locker room were John and Randy. John had passed Mike in the hallway earlier and if not for the fedora that sat atop his head he wouldn't have noticed. Each time John saw him he looked worse and worse. His face had been mostly shadowed by the hat and Mike didn't look up at John but he could still see the dark smudges that marred the face of his ex-lover, left there by the cocky Texan that John was itching to get his hands on. Randy however—unlike his in-ring persona—was at the moment being the rational one and he held Hennigan back by wrapping his arms around his waist.

"He's not yours anymore." Randy said softly into Johns' ear. John just watched Layfield as he finished his look by placing his white cowboy hat on his head and pushing and indignant Shawn Michaels out of the way of the mirror so he could smirk at his reflection and make sure it was perfect.

"I…I know." John said sighing and sinking back into Randy. Orton gave him a quick peck on the neck before letting him go. _But in a way…he always will be mine, no matter how much I try to deny it. _

"You can't save him." Randy said startling John as though he could somehow read his thoughts.

"Maybe not, but if anything really horrible ever happened to him…" John trailed off not sure how to end that sentence. He just hoped that Mike could open his eyes and get away before things got any worse.

**_Once again I apologize for the long read. I think it might move kinda slow it feels like nothing really happened to move the thing forward and I feel bad…but I couldn't post up the whole thing it was way to long. The next few chapters are going to have some important things happening though. The musi were put in over drive while on vacation but that's a good thing. :) Thank u all!_**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thank you for standing by while Chris took over my mind for a while. Today it was mostly Mark taking over, but he's kind enough to share some of my time with Layfield and Miz and even a new person who makes her entrance in this chapter. She's been waiting very patiently too. Oh, and no worries for you slash lovers. There isn't going to be any het action going on, lol. One last thing to take care of before heading on to this chapter: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO Lichtblick, takers dark lover, Anonymous Punk, Nefatiri, Dark Kaneanite, and Esha Napoleon. And you know what…I've never made a disclaimer on any of my fics so here it goes. I do not own myself, the musi own me. Wait…that's not how it's supposed to go is it? Lol. Now I shut up so you can read. :)**

**Chapter 28**

John dragged Mike through the line in catering, making the young man take a plate and at least put something on it. He reluctantly put a few crackers on the plate and watched John as he plowed his way through the line. Mike could feel the eyes on him, just being in the room with all these people felt overwhelming. He wanted to drop his pathetic plate and bolt back to the safety of the hotel room, to the security of John's arms, just the two of them and no one else who could see his ugliness, his uselessness, his every flaw bared to the world like gaping wounds. Trembling he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head as though hiding in it. John turned around and seeing Mike had tossed it up again frowned and yanked the hood back down so hard Mike could hear the seem tear somewhere near the neckline.

"Quit with the fucking hood." John hissed in his ear, smiling pleasantly and pretending he was whispering something sweet to his beloved.

Mike shifted from foot to foot restlessly, he was frozen to one spot in the line, his hands starting to quiver, the crackers rattled against the plate and the sound of them filled his head until it was all he could hear. John turned back again finding that he was embarrassing himself by talking to someone who wasn't at his side any longer. Instead Mike Knox had moved ahead in line and he smiled at John, stroking his beard, he chirped John's stated 'I love you' back to him with a laugh. John bit back his temper for now and returned to Mike who was quivering in front of the crackers, the same place John had left him. Layfield rolled his eyes, Mike was giving off all the signals of an impending panic attack. Over what? The kid was really depressing that he could get all worked up over crackers.

"Mike darlin'."

Tears threatened to trickle from Mike's eyes and John wiped them away harshly with his napkin. _"Michael, get it together. Now." _John hissed through gritted teeth. _"Just get some food and take your mind off all the people. Pretend they're not here." _John demanded under his breath. He grabbed some tongs for the chicken and shoved the utensil into Mike's hands.

_Good idea, do something to take my mind off of them. All the people, so many people, they all know, distractions. Distract yourself from them and you'll be okay, don't think of them, they're not here, they're not. Distractdistractdistract._

Mike made his way through the line taking some of everything and not even realizing how full his plate was getting or how bad his hands were shaking or how he was spilling bits of food while getting to his plate. Finally at the end he hurried over to the table John was sitting at. The Texan was leaned up in his chair chatting to Mark Calaway as though everything was perfectly fine. Mike fumbled with the chair before dragging it back from the table and clumsily he sat down. He pulled the chair close and hunched over his plate, his shoulders drawn in, out of habit he ducked under the sweatshirt hood again. He felt like a child hiding under the covers from all the terrible monsters. H realized he was mumbling under his breath: _Can't see them, can't see me. _He realized with embarrassment that he must sound like John Cena on meth so to stop his mumbling he shoveled food into his mouth. All he needed was for people to think he was crazy—or crazier—than they already thought he was. He knew people though bad of him, he'd heard them whisper and talk before when they thought they were being discrete. He knew that they gossiped about him for being with John, for quitting the company, for being such a loser. _Shut up, shut up!_ He tried to make his mind stop racing with all the things that worried it but it continued on.

John hoped Mark would pay Mike no attention but he watched Mark's eyes as they talked and despite Mark's best efforts to stay focused John noticed him glancing again and again at Mike. The way Mark looked at him John knew he was pitying the kid, and he didn't need Calaway, the locker room daddy, to go getting concerned over what was John's. Only last week John had to put some of the guys in the locker room in their place when they started to mutter about his treatment of Mizanin.

Not only did Layfield not need outside interference from idiots who knew nothing, he also didn't need Mike embarrassing him like he was. John cast a look over his shoulder at the young man next to him. When he saw the hood returned to its protective position he wanted to just tear the shirt off of him right then and there, but like the professional he was he contained himself. All that could wait for later. Johns lip curled up as he continued to watch Mike eating like he hadn't had a crumb for days—well maybe he hadn't John didn't keep track of his erratic eating disorder—but anyway it was disgusting and especially in public. Under the table John brought the heel of his boot down on Mike's toes.

"Ow!" Mike jerked his foot away, banging his knee on the table sending Mark's water bottle toppling over.

"You idiot!" John growled before he could stop himself. Mike started to stutter.

"John, it's okay." Mark up-righted the bottle and didn't even grab any napkins to soak up the puddle in his lap. He was trying to keep the situation as calm as possible and no amount of water was going to kill anyone. "It's only water, don't worry about it."

"He's clumsy that's all." John snipped. "Darlin' don't worry about it." He grabbed Mike's hands roughly under the table but tried to bullshit Mark into thinking he was trying to calm the young man who chewed his lip and looked as if he might burst into tears at any moment. Mark could feel the anxiety radiating from Mike, he knew his eyes on him didn't make it any better, but he felt bad for the young man and the fear he saw in once vibrant blue eyes made him dislike John Layfield even more.

"I'm sorry." Mike whispered, his voice straining with the emotions he fought back.

"It's nothin' baby." John soothed. He pressed his thumb between Mike's knuckles making him flinch and bite his lip harder. "Michael why don't ya'll go to the restroom and get some towels for Mark here." John said sweetly, but when his eyes forced a hold with Mike's the young man got John's real message. _Get your sorry fucking ass out of here NOW. _

Mike pushed his chair away quickly. When he stood up his stomach started to ache and he realized suddenly how much he had wolfed down when his impulse to shut himself up had taken over. Looking down at his plate he found it empty but for a few of those stupid crackers. Now he really did have to leave fast, because his gut was starting to churn sickishly.

He ducked into the first bathroom he found and threw up. He couldn't believe how he had just acted in front of everyone, every-freaking-one and John…how had he made John look with his foolishness? He gripped the porcelain bowl and heaved harder, each purging motion hurting worse than the one before, until he was sure he was going to tear open and die right there on the dirty floor of the restroom.

Mark's fought with the scowl that wanted to contort his face. He could barely keep John's gaze any longer. The stupid things that came out of Layfields mouth meant nothing to Mark. With John it was hard to decipher what was true and what was exaggerated or what was just pure bullshit. Mark had one of the best shit detectors around and even at that John could sometimes fool him. But one thing he knew, in the deepest part of him, was that John really was hurting Mike. He didn't want to believe the rumors that were floating around the company, that wasn't Mark's way. It wasn't true until it came straight from the horses mouth. But from watching the interactions of the two men Mark knew. In some way he wished he didn't know, because he could really do nothing about it, he could only know that it was going on and stand by while it happened. What went on between two people in the privacy of their own relationship was just that—private. Mark knew how to respect the boundaries of others, unlike some people he worked with, and it was something that gained him some of the respect others showed to him.

Sighing, Mark rose from the table in the middle of John's sentence. He looked down at John, not realizing he had lost the battle with his facial expression. John faltered and looked up at Mark offended that he was about to leave him in mid-conversation. When Mark's brow bunched further into the scowl John just glared at him back. A silent message passed between the two of them.

_I know, and I don't like it._

_So? What are you going to do about Mark? This doesn't involve you._

The dueling grimaces were held a few moments longer, neither man wanting to back down, but at last Mark pulled away. This was between John and Mike. At this point, there was no reason for Mark to involve himself, only more of a reason to dislike John Layfield.

Mike leaned against the dented door of the stall trying to gain the strength to pull himself to his feet. His stomach had settled down, some tears had been shed, and his nerves were beginning to quiet back to a more reasonable, tolerable state of edginess. He just felt so weak, so tired. He pulled a few squares of toilet paper off the roll and wiped his nose with a sniffle. He just couldn't remember how things had gotten to this point, he didn't know how it was that he spent so much of his time down on the floor, under everyone else's feet, feeling like nothing more than dirt being wedged into the crevasses of the worlds shoes.

He leaned his sweaty head against the cool metal and closed his eyes. Some part of him hoped that John would rush in at any moment to find him and pull him into his arms. What he wouldn't give to just feel those strong arms around him, to listen to the breath as it rose and fell in his chest, to hear a heartbeat. There were still moments when John was good to him, when he showed his love, there were times when it felt so good and hurt so much Mike didn't know if he could take it. The times that John would dust off his love and show it again were getting fewer and fewer, and when he did let Mike see that sad the young man was left wanting it worse and worse. The hardest part to swallow was that it was all his fault that John rarely loved him these days. After all, he was such a cluster-fuck and a failure that he should be glad to get any attention from John, negative or positive. Sometimes if he even thought about it long enough, he could make the pain into something good. Why do parents punish their children? They punish because they love them. Why does John do the things he does? _Because he loves me, he really loves me. If he didn't love me he'd let me stay the way I am, he wouldn't try to help me, he wouldn't try to show me the right ways, he wouldn't care enough to correct me when I'm wrong. Hasn't it been said that love hurts? _

Mike swallowed the rest of his tears and felt them roll around in his belly for a few moments. After he gathered the strength he could he stood up, his head spun and he leaned back on the side of the stall for support. He opened the door and took a deep breath to steady himself but stopped short when he saw Mickie James leaning over the sink freshening up her lips gloss.

"Oh my God…" Mike fumbled the words and tried to retreat back into the stall. He pulled the hood of his shirt up hastily. "I-I'm sorry I must have—I didn't mean to—I didn't know this wa-was--"

Mickie had turned around when she saw the reflection of a man in the mirror. Her first instinct was to laugh at whoever had mistakenly ducked into the woman's bathroom. A smile twitched on her lips but as it dawned on her who it was backing away from her, the little grin fell away and she stepped closer.

"Mike?" She nearly shrieked it as a question, not sure if she could trust her own eyes. This poor thing barely looked like the Mike Mizanin she knew right before she took time off for her injury. She was completely thrown as to why he seemed to be so nervous and so intimidated by her. They had been friends even to the point where a few practical jokes had passed back and forth between them and though she'd been out of the loop for a long time and hadn't kept up with the gossip when she was away from the company, she knew something had to have gone down. Mike wasn't wrestling anymore, she knew that much, but what could have changed him into what she saw now. She blinked, not wanting to believe it. She tried again to get close to him but he backed further into the stall.

"Mike?"

He cringed at the back of the stall, nowhere else to go.

"Yeah." He answered meekly.

Mickie's mouth wagged up and down but she couldn't find the words to say or the questions to ask. She tried to get a better look at his face to see what she could read there, but his expressions were mostly shadowed under his hood. They only thing she could really see was the fearful glint in his eyes, and she didn't understand why it was there, he had no reason to fear her.

Things came to mind to say and at last she decided to ask him the thing that made most sense to her. He and "The Shaman of Sexy" had probably broken up…although she knew without doubt that there was something else. Even a nasty break with Hennigan wouldn't have him in the state he was now.

"Did you and John…oh Mike, I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around him before he could get away. He whimpered at her touch, not wanting her to be so close to his body, his repulsive, nasty body. When she hugged Mike her heart jumped into her throat with worry. She had seen that he looked a lot thinner, his clothes hung shapelessly, they might as well have been trash bags, but when she held him tightly she felt how little of him there was. "Mike you're so…so…you've lost so much weight."

"I know." He jerked away from her and if able he would have climbed over the stall walls and escaped. "I know I gained some weight okay!" He bit back. "I know how horrible I look, you don't have to rub it in." He wailed, tears forming in his eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"No Mike, that's not what I said." _What's wrong with him? What in the hell has happened to him to make him this way? _Her fear escalated at Mike's response. "I said you look thin, you look…have you been sick sweetie? Here don't cry." She wanted to reach up slide the hood away from his face and smear away his tears, her instinct to comfort him was aching to take over, but she could see that having someone this close to him was making him exceedingly upset. She backed away, letting space grow between them.

"I have to go Mickie. John's wa-waiting for me." He dabbed his eyes on the sleeves of his sweatshirt and trotted out of the bathroom leaving Mickie still upset and confused. She went back to the sink and opened the mouth of her purse and swept the small items of make-up into it. She zipped it and tossed it over her shoulders before leaving the lady's room empty. When she stepped out she saw Mike across the hallway, Layfield was standing over him. A chill swept up her spine and on the heels of that chill followed the burn of her temper as it bubbled hot at the sight of _him_.

John broke his hold of Mike's eyes when he heard heels clacking towards them. He pasted a smile over the glare he had been sporting to his wretched lover and found his caramel eyes locking with ones that were blazing just as fiery as his were moments ago. As Mickie came closer her anger started to recede as realization took over, slowly freezing her in her tracks. She stopped a few paces from the two men, Mike had inched closer to John and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, his head rested against John's lavender tie. _John's waiting for me._ Mickie had assumed her thoughts about Mike and Hennigan breaking up were false and that the John who was waiting for him was the one that he seemed to have been glued to constantly, Hennigan._ It couldn't be this John, not Layfield…but it was. _Now she understood completely.

"Mickie." John said cheerily, he clapped her on the shoulder, squeezing tighter than she liked. The moment he touched her, the rage was back.

"John." Mickie snapped, grinding her teeth. "That's the shoulder I had surgery on." She spat the words at him and wrapped her fingers around his hand and squeezed harder and harder until he pulled it away. She saw his temper flash beneath his false face of pleasantries, he pulled his hand away and pretended to be concerned.

"Oh, I'm so sorry darlin'. I didn't realize it."

_You did it you motherfucker. _Mickie's eyes said to John.

_That's right Mickie, and don't forget it. _His smirk reminded her.

_I'm not afraid of you, bastard. _

Their gazes battled a few moments longer before John's softened, putting back on his mask of 'friendly co-worker'.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it back to us. I know how much ya love what you do." He made a point of tilting Mike's chin upwards and kissing him, though it was a chore for him not to grimace when he flicked his tongue over the sour-sick taste of Mike's lips. "My darlin' and I better be gettin' back."

Mickie felt devastated as she watched John leave with Mike under his arm, more like under his thumb. She didn't need his lying displays of affection to confirm what had stopped her in her tracks, that they were a couple. Her heart sank to her toes and she sat down hard on a bench that was in the hallway. She closed her eyes and the flash of Mike's eyes filled her minds eye. She didn't have to stare into them to know why she had seen fear in them, just like she didn't have to push his hood back to know there were bruises.

_**Thank you for reading. Please let me know whatever you want me to know, at least tell me hi! 3 Next chapter will probably be up slowly as this one, I've given up trying to update it quicker because this kind of end up going at it's own pace. I don't sit down and write it, it sits me down when it's ready and writes itself. Just know that I will never leave you hanging without an ending. That's like the cardinal sin for me to not finish a story. So, just hang in there if you can. I'm along for the ride just as much as you all are. **_


	29. Chapter 29

_**Kay I have some brief things in here about Custom Muscle…I don't claim any of it to be true in reality. I tried to do some research on it but just got confused, lol!! I only know that it is in Frisco, TX…other than that I'm not real sure on specifics, which that doesn't really matter anyway. *shut up WF no one cares* Ahem, thank you for everyone who reviewed the last chapter: DK, Takers dark lover, Nefatiri, **__**Seiji-kun Chiaki-kun Eiji-kun**__**, Lichtblick, Anonymous Punk, and Esha Napoleon. Thank you guys so much *huggles* I hope this chapter isn't too boring, it seems like there's a lot of technical stuff…I keep being way to critical about stuff with this fic, lol. If this one is ho-hum, I promise you, the next one wont be. **_

Mickie flopped onto her bed, feeling drained emotionally and physically. Her hand fluttered to her shoulder and she rubbed it gently, hoping to dull away some of the pain. She closed her eyes, and thought of Mike, and flicked them back open when angry tears pricked. _That son-of-a-bitch Layfield._ She growled mentally. Her mind was still reeling with the encounter earlier. She was afraid for Mike, worried the way a sister worries over her baby brother, and she couldn't stand idly by as more bruises were added to his collection.

With a sigh she rolled off the bed, grimacing at the ache of her shoulder, and went to the desk where she had her lap top sitting connect to the hotel wireless. When she'd went to the hospital the night John hurt her shoulder she knew for certain she was leaving, she didn't need a man in her life to make her happy, much less one who thought he was going to lay a hand on her. She'd been enraged and rattling on about John, it was clear to the staff just how her shoulder had been injured, and even though it seemed obvious that she had no intention of going back to him, they had given her some pamphlets and information about domestic violence. She didn't have those papers any more but she soon found herself on the hospitals website and finding out that they same information was online.

Before she knew it half the night had slipped away as she Googled and searched. She finally willed herself to log off and collapse into bed, yawning as she nuzzled into the pillow, hoping that at least something out of her search would give Mike hope.

The next day Mickie stuffed her things into her suitcase and headed to the airport. She kept a sharp look out for Mike or his jack-ass partner, and finally found Mike sitting by himself with a magazine on his lap. She frowned at the way he was cowering under his hoody, and flicking glances at John who she saw was hobnobbing with some man that looked like a business know-it-all that he'd ran into. She dropped down beside Mike, he startled and let out a puppy yelp. She quickly gave him her phone number, he tried to put it in his cell but his hands were shaking too bad, so she snatched it away and did it herself.

He seemed like he was only half-listening as she went on excitedly about things he could do to get away from John, why he should, places he could go, people who could help. She could tell his attention was drifting and soon he wasn't listening at all, just watching John and the look on his face told her he was afraid that the Texan was going to turn around and see him with Mickie, something she guessed John wouldn't like.

"Mike, are you listening?" Mickie tugged at the sleeve of his hoody and reluctantly he turned his attention back to her. She had a couple pamphlets in her hands. "They gave me these at the hospital when I left John. I found some stuff on the net too, specifically for you." She sat them atop the magazine in Mike's lap. "Just look over them, okay? I put a couple of hot-line numbers in your phone too, just incase, you know, you could call them if you need to." She patted his arm, her smile genuine and concerned, tainted with a bit of sadness. "I love you damn it." She teased, standing up and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. She watched him a few moments longer, Mike could almost read the look on her face, she looked like she just wanted to grab his wrist and run away with him while John wasn't looking. She sighed, then looked across the lobby when someone called her name.

Mike looked and saw that it was Beth and Melina waving from by an ATM machine. Mickie gave Mike a parting wink and trotted off to meet her friends.

He'd read the things Mickie had given him, terrified that John would catch him, come over, and smash his face into a vending machine or something. He managed to get through them, dropping them a couple times because his nerves were so frayed, but John was non-the-wiser. Mike just slipped the papers between the glossy pages of the magazine and left it in the airport, the whole flight turning the words over in his mind, the first line of one of those papers repeating itself again and again; _One out of four homosexual males is in an abusive relationship, you are not alone._

Since the brief meeting in the airport months ago, he'd decided he wasn't really ready to leave. He really didn't think he could, hell, he could barely get out of bed most mornings. Mickie continued to send him emails with information, hoping it would sink in. In the beginning he'd read them, quickly deleting them for fear John would find out. Now the statistics, hotlines, and articles went straight to the trash, because they didn't seem to matter any more. Those things Mickie had offered him were just fantasy, they were for people who actually had the nerve to leave, for people who weren't with John Layfield.

In fact, just now Mike was curled on the bed with John's lap top, sending some of Mickie's emails into the can, and clicking on a few, reading some of the words, then closing them because they only made him feel worse. _There are things you can do and you're too fucking scared, too fucking pathetic. You deserve how John treats you._ Mike tried to push those thoughts away, according to some of the things he'd read this was just the voice of John trying to control him. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was true.

"Michael." Mike jumped when John's voice touched his ear, lunging after the lap-top as it almost toppled off the bed. "What're ya lookin' at darlin'?"

"N-nothing." Mike resettled the lap top on his knees and with trembling hands deleted the last message, hoping John wouldn't turn on him for almost destroying his computer. The damn piece of technology had nearly sent him into a panic attack when it tried to commit suicide, and he leaned against John trying to calm his shallow breathing and the thundering of his heart as it raced.

With a grunt John moved, and wandered over to his suitcase. Mike watched the Texan as he fished out a tie-_a hideously ugly tie_—and draped it around his neck and started to fiddle with it. The Raw roster was in Dallas for this weeks taping, and John had decided to call a meeting with Charlie Haas and some associates in Frisco, just about forty minutes out of Dallas, to go over some things about their baby company, "Custom Muscle". John finished with his tie and ran a hand over it, smoothing it down. He cast a look over at Mike who looked guilty, and he narrowed his eyes, suspicion rising up in him not for the first time.

He'd seen Mickie talking with Mike at the airport, he knew they talked on the phone from time to time, and he was convinced that she was sending him emails most likely putting things in his head about leaving. John knew how Mickie and Mike had been close, and Mickie was not the type of lady to stand idly by while someone she cared for was hurting. John resisted the urge to snarl and instead bent over the bed and pressed a kiss to Mike's split lip. His lover looked up at him and smiled slightly, one eye squinting from the puffy bruise around it, the white part colored crimson with broken blood vessels.

He left Mike behind and squeezed in behind the wheel of his rental, a beautiful luxury car, after all it was always the best for John Layfield. He twisted the radio knob before finding a news channel and settling there so he could hear about things in the world, mainly the economy report. After that was over and he was bored with politics, he messed around trying to find a country station.

_Black eyes, I don't need 'em  
Blue tears, gimme freedom  
Positively never goin' back  
I won't live where things are so out of whack  
No more rollin' with the punches  
No more usin' or abusin'_

_I'd rather die standing  
Than live on my knees  
Begging please-no more--_

With a growl, John switched the radio off ending the song prematurely. He glared at the highway ahead of him. It seemed even the radio new something, blaring out Shania Twain's victory song about leaving an abusive man. Well, if Mike had any ideas of leaving, they were going to be extinguished, and so was his contact with that cunt Mickie. _I know she's stirring him up._

At the meeting John was distracted. It was just him and Charlie Haas and three others and for once Charlie was the one who had to keep the conversation up, normally John talked so much and so loud that no one else could get much in. His lack of words was a clear sign to Charlie that something was wrong with him, and the look in his eyes was unnerving. He'd been with John before when he was angry, once he had made the mistake of letting John convince him to sleep with him, something that Charlie was not at all familiar with. It was his first male encounter and his last, and it was on that day that he really saw a side of Layfield that frightened him. The only reason he'd joined Layfield in this Custom Muscle venture was because he knew John to be an outstanding businessman. Sometimes he found himself regretting the decision. He wondered what could be so enormous to John that it was taking his attention away from his business, his money-maker.

The meeting came to an end and Charlie shuffled some papers and headed to his office hoping John would find his way out, instead the pin-stripe wearing Texan followed him to his office in a quick, angry, stride, his hands balled up at his sides.

"D'y'all know about computers? Say if someone was um, had the need to get into someone's email account could it be done?"

Refraining from face-palming himself Charlie ducked behind his desk and sighed. John obviously had it out for someone, and asking about hacking into email didn't sit well with Haas. He shuffled some papers at his desk.

"Um well…I dunno. I suppose you'd just need their username and password…if you could get that somehow."

"I don't know that." John barked. "Charlie, move over." John rounded the desk and nudged Charlie none too politely out of the way of his own computer.

"John, do this on your own time. I don't want you using my computer to--"

"Charlie, I'm not breakin' into the god damn Pentagon. I just need t'make sure my darlin' isn't up to anything foolish." He navigated to Yahoo's page and clicked on the icon with the letter on it, which took him to the sign in page. After looking over it a few seconds he found a link to click on if you couldn't access your account. Soon he was filling out security questions that didn't really seem very secure at all—birth date, country of residence, postal code, and alternative email address. The only one he wasn't sure of was the alternative email address, but all WWE employees had a company email, so John tried Mike's old WWE email address hoping the tech department had been too lazy to delete it. He realized after that, that Mike's Yahoo ID was going to be sent to his alternate email.

Grumbling he took more time and fiddled with possible passwords until, suprizing himself, he got into Mike's WWE account. There was the email showing Mike's Yahoo mail address. John slapped his knee, laughing heartily at how easy it was. Charile sat on the window ledge with his palm pressed to his forehead as though a migraine was coming on. He wanted to say something, but what? When John started to do the same thing to retrieve "his" lost password, Charlie excused himself from the room and paced the hall. Soon John was looking at Mike's Yahoo inbox, and he had all he needed to know.

From: MickieJMouse3179

To: Th3_M1z_K1d

Subject: National Domestic Abuse Hotline 1 (800) 799 – SAFE

"Safe huh." John mumbled closing out of the window and brining his hand down on Charlie's keyboard, successfully jamming the 'shift' and 'caps lock' buttons. "We'll see how fuckin' safe you are Michael."

_**That is an actual domestic abuse hotline. If anyone reading this is experiencing violence from a partner or knows anyone who is, call!!! Don't be afraid to. Kay now that's out of the way, sorry, I had to…love to all my readers! Oh, and um...I do not break into email. *holds up double peace signs like Richard Nixon* No seriously, I don't. XD  
**_


	30. Chapter 30

_**I want to continue to thank all the reviewers and readers out there. Most of all, I want to give an **__**extreme warning**__**. This is really, really graphic. I didn't want it to be this bad, but JBL and Mike both wanted it this way and I had to do what they wanted. I'm almost afraid to put it up, but, it has to go up. So say the musi, please forgive me. At least it's fiction, but still. *whimper* I apologize. If it's any comfort, John will get what's coming to him very soon, and it won't belong before this story is finished.**_

_**Chapter 30**_

The slam of the door startled Mike's fitful sleep and his eyes flew open, just in time to see John's face, furious, demonic, and his big hand snap out and catch his face, snapping his head to the side with the force. Fingers found his hair and fisted there and dragged him off of the bed, landing on his knees.

"Joh-John!" Mike cried, sounding pitiful.

"Ah didn't say you could fuckin' talk boy!" John bellowed, his harsh, Texan shout filling the room. His boot connected with Mike's ribs and drew a squawk of pain. Mike rolled into a fetal position, clutching his side, tears drowning his face, shaking like a tiny dog afraid for its life. "What did ah tell you about _her!_" John ranted, he dragged the boy up to his knees, and kicked him in the face, spurting blood onto pointed toes of his boots. The crimson liquid ran steadily from his nose and mouth, a quick puddle soaking into the carpet. Pain throbbed in his face, pieces of his teeth were jagged against his tongue and he spit them out, trembling, begging for John to stop. It only landed him another boot to the face, this one catching him in the temple and splitting it into a hot seem of leaking blood.

John circled Mike like a wolf, stalking its injured pray. His lips were pulled back from his teeth in an inhuman snarl, his eyes were ride, rolling with his anger, his blood lust. Mike was never prettier than when he was beaten down, wearing bright glimmering reds and dark purples, those colors suited him.

"She's a manipulative, jealous, whore!" John spat, his eyes flashing wildly.

"I'm sorry, I-I'm s-s-so-sorry please stop, please!"

"Ah will stop, boy, when ah am good and fuckin' ready to!" He hoisted Mike up to a pathetic standing position, slumped against the wall. Mike was trying to focus on breathing, his head was spinning so out of control, panic consuming him, he barely knew where he was. All he knew was that some hellish creature was after him, crucifying him with his own weaknesses, laughing as the blood dripped down, washing away no sin, making nothing right. "Are y'thinkin about leavin' me Michael? Is that right? Is that what kinda god-damn bullshit you have runnin' around in your dumbass head!" John gripped Mike's jaw, it was slimy and slick in his hand, the blood smearing against his fingers spurring on a sick arousal. "Answer me, answer me you worthless, no-good, disgusting piece of shit!"

Mike whimpered, tears flowing freely, streaking clear paths over his stain face.

"No." He croaked out, barely audible. _Worthless, disgusting, piece of shit…worthless, disgusting, piece of shit…worthless, worthless, disgusting…_John's words pricked his racing thoughts, digging in and laughing at him as they hurt him worse, deeper, than any physical punishment John could doll out.

"No!" John shouted, his voice still steady at a decibel just short of deafening. "That's for damn sure! You leaving—you s'much as thinkin' about leaving—is a fucking joke. Michael, where would you go? Huh? Where in the name of fuck would you go? Your parents wont take you in, they hate you, their disgusted by you, their only son some flamin' fag? Remember when you told me about that? How does it feel Michael to make your mommy and daddy so proud of you?" John laughed, brayed like a jackass. "You think you're gunna stay with Mickie? She doesn't want you Michael. She wants you out of the way so she can get back to me, she's a manipulator, a user, she ain't there for you Michael, its all a game. Do y'hear me boy?"

"John stop, John stop, please…"

"You sure as hell can't get out on your own. Look at you, a fucking mess, a grown man, can barely even dress himself, laying around crying all the time, panicking because some little thing is outta place, you can't do anything Mike, you need me. Ah give it all to you." _John Layfield, you are such a genius. _John thought to himself as he screamed at Mike, punctuating his words with slaps, beating him down to remind him how alone and disabled he really was, rubbing his nose in it. All of it was because of John, he'd made sure to make Mike so dependent on him that he had no escape, he had no will left to leave, no self-esteem to believe he could, but even more than that, John Layfield was a practical man.

He had worked out all angles of this long ago, before he and Mike were together, John had everything planned out in his mind, he never went in to anything without thinking it through, analyzing and re-analyzing. He was first and foremost a businessman, a damn good business man, and he didn't get to this point in life—a self-made success, a wealthy man because of his own endeavors, he never got it from anyone else, only his self and his tedious efforts, and Mike was such the opposite of him. He was a wreck, a loser, he didn't have the strength to make himself into anything but a puppet, a pawn, a toy for John to play with and beat up and fuck. John had sensed it back then when he'd just been in the shadows watching, he sensed the potential in Mike, the potential he had to be broken, used, stepped on and kicked and still whining for more, because in some twisted part of his dysfunctional self, he was willing to take anything as long as he didn't have to wake up to an empty bed or cry a lonely tear.

John knew it, he knew Mike's weakness and he took delight in exploiting them. The fact that he'd successfully crippled him financially, emotionally, spiritually, physically, it was all a testament to the power of John Layfield. There was nothing for Mike to leave for, absolutely nothing. Not long after they'd met John had casually brought up the topic of finances, something he was known to love and have a head for. It wasn't long before Mike gave everything over to John, because John's words were laced together just right, he told him things that sounded good, how he should use his money, where he should put it, soon it was exactly where it needed to be. None of those things John told Mike mattered, the stupid kid thought John was investing it, he was in a sense—into his own bank account—he was investing it for his own purposes, to keep his victim chained to a leash.

There was no money Mike could draw on to help him, he'd already quit his job, another pat on the back for John Layfield, and at this point in time, he was so far gone that he couldn't hold down a job. His mental and emotional state was in ruins, functioning only minimally on the best of days.

"Don't you understand? You're mine. Ah own you, y'think ah care? Y'think that maybe in some hard to reach place, that ah love you? Let's be real Michael, ah love the way you make me feel, the way you beg, the way you whimper, the way y'tremble, that's what ah love Michael, ah love it—the way you make me feel like a fucking god, that's what ah love, that's what ah thrive on, ah don't love you, ah could never love something so god damn miserable, so fucking pathetic, have you looked in the mirror lately? Have you seen your how ugly, how disgusting--"

"Please no, no John—no!" Mike curled slid down the wall and curled into a ball, his hands gripping his ears, trying to shut out the sound of John's voice cutting him like knife, the things he was saying, he didn't want to hear them. He pressed harder, like a child trying to muffle the terrible sounds of thunderclaps during a storm.

"You listen to me!" John snatched Mike's wrists, pulling his hands away from his ears, he bent one of his wrists, feeling the bones crackle as Mike yelped in pain. Mike cried almost incoherently for John to let go, sobbed that he was sorry. It only earned him another kick, a sharper one, to his gut. He doubled over, the pain tearing through him, searing like a hot iron, making him dry heave and gag. _This is how I'm going to die. _Mike thought, almost giddy. Somehow, it really didn't matter anymore, it really didn't fucking matter at all. "No one loves you Michael, not your parents, not your ex-lover John Hennigan, not Mickie, and sure as fuck not me!"

_No, nonono, he has to care, he has to a little, if it's just_ _a grain of sand, it's enough! _Nothing was coherent, John's words were becoming broken pieces and fragments in his mind, it was filled with jumbles of all the times he wanted to be loved. There was never love, only hurt, pain so bad it was mind numbing, and rejection, always rejection. There had to be something so inherently wrong with him that made it so no one could possibly love or even like what they saw in him, all there was, was loathing. Consciousness swirled in and out, sanity and insanity danced with each other, everything was broken, and somewhere in the background, John's voice continued on and on and on forever laying all his flaws bare, and his boots and fists kept the beat like some morbid drum roll.

"You will not call her, you will not talk to her, you will not email--" John's voice went on and on, his boot heel crackled Mike's cell phone, destroying his life line. Mike barely heard it, it didn't even matter.

Next door, Cody and Ted turned up their t.v. to drown out the shouts that many of them had become used to by now. Chris and Matt were rooming next door on the other side, and they made quick plans to got out, unable to take the things John was yelling so loud, the horrible things he was bellowing, it sounded like he was in the room with them. They'd thought about going over and demanding John to quiet down, to stop what he was doing, but they couldn't afford to get into any trouble, and someone else was bound to go over if it didn't stop soon. Mark and Glen were just above them, a few times they stomped on the floor, hoping that would get their message across. Mark almost went down, but Glen stopped him, saying it wasn't their business to get involved. Others were across the hall, just like the rest, finding excuses to ignore what was clearly going on. _It's not our business, someone else will take care of it, I can't afford to get caught with one of John's fists, what could I do to stop it anyway? _The list of excuses went on. _He's too stupid to leave, maybe he deserves it. It's probably not as bad as it sounds, John's always loud. It'll stop, it'll stop soon, by the time I called the police, it would stop._

Mike was close to passing out, fainting dead away into a deep, dark, place that he didn't care if he came back from. Just as he was nearing that brink, something pulled him back. It was John, slapping his face again and again, trying to force him back.

"Ah'm not done with you, you can't go until ah'm fuckin' done with you…" He panted, leering and jeering like a sick animal, his big hands coated with blood. He pulled Mike up, his body almost limp, like a tattered doll. He pressed him to the wall, groaning when his hard-on prodded painfully at Mike's belly, rubbing against the fabric of his slacks and needing desperately to be free from confinement. The power that Mike gave him, rushed through his veins like a drug, his head spun with it, these moments when he was the king of the world, standing up and looking down like the highest of diesties, these were the moments he thrived on. His arousal was so full, his self control was sliding through his hands. He grappled for it, and took a moment to regroup.

Mike swam back to his senses a bit, he could barely see John through his eye lashes, his vision was blurry, ebbing in and out, and he really couldn't open his eyes beyond slits. John tore his shirt away, next his pants, and he shoved Mike back down to the floor. His form was so sad, so wasted and pathetic, just a bony shell of what had once been a healthy young man. Mike curled up again, shivering, trying to hide.

_Don't look at me, I'm so ugly, I'm so fat, disgusting, horrible don't look at me please!_

For a few moments, Mike was left on the floor, naked and bloody and demeaned and dehumanized. John had went to his suitcase, and pulled out a bottle of Jim Beam. He took a long swig from it, and sauntered back over to Mike, the Beam in one hand, the other working on loosening his belt. He tugged it free and wrapped it around Mike's neck, drawing it tight and making him wheeze for air. He dragged Mike to the bed, calling him a dog, a worthless bitch dog, kicking him and mashing his fingers. He tied the belt off to the bedpost, leaving Mike with very little room to struggle against his short leash that bit into his throat.

_I am leaving, I'm leaving tonight, not even John Layfield can stop me from going where I plan to go, he can't find me there, he can't drag me back. No one will find me there, no one will have to look at me again, I won't have to look at me again, ever. I can't take this anymore, there's nothing left in me, nothing. Once I leave, it'll be perfect. There won't be anymore pain in my life, there won't be any more loneliness, fear, depression, there will be nothing but warm, loving, darkness._

Mike fell in and out of consciousness, each time he came to, he'd hear John foaming at the mouth, smell the hard alcohol, taste the blood, feel the bed sheets under his nails, John's hands on him roughly, something cold invading from behind, recognizing on some level that it was John's bottle of Beam violating him, raping him with it's neck jarring in and out of him. Some time later it had changed, what was in him was bigger, more familiar to him as John. This was harsher in its punishment as it churned his insides with hot force and tore him apart, the hard thrusts plowing into him like an eighteen wheeler into a bicycle.

Some time later, Mike realized he was awake. His whole body was just numb, his mind didn't seem to be working, it was probably in overdrive trying to block out the pain, or else it would be to unbearable to take. He tried to open his eyes and managed to get one of them half way there. He could here John snoring loudly on the bed above him. He felt at his neck, with the hand John had broken earlier, and felt that the belt had been removed, in its place a raised ring that was probably black and angry.

_I'm leaving, I don't know how, but I am. I have 's nothing left, nothing.  
_

In the darkness of the room, Mike crept across the floor, unsteady like a baby learning to crawl. It was so slow, each movement hard to make as the more he moved, the more pain that leaked through to his senses.

Crunch, his hand came down on something sharp, tearing through his flesh. He held his hand up—it was the broken one again—and looked at it in the dim moonlight that filtered through the blinds. The glass glimmered, the tip of it poking out on the other side of his hand. _My savior, tonight you will deliver me. _He sat up on his knees, ignoring the ached that rocketed through his back, the stabbing bite that hurt his lungs every time he took a breath, the feel of blood leaking down his legs, mingling with the sticky mess that was already there. Amused, out of his mind, he pulled the shard out and held it in his good hand. _My escape._

He crawled a little further, coming across something else. He reached for it in the darkness, it was John's shirt. He slipped it on, fumbling for a few buttons in the darkness, before going on. He made it to the door and pulled himself up, biting back the sobs that wanted to burst out at the pain that shook his body. His hands groped at the doorknob, finally getting it and swinging the door open. He fell out into the hallway, leaving a bloody handprint on the carpet. He lay there a few moments, thinking he might not be able to move, not even sure where he was going. He just wanted to be some where away from everyone, private, where he could end it for good.

He managed to make it down the hallway, and into the stairwell, where he toppled down the first flight ending up and the bottom of those in a heap, narrowly avoiding rolling down the second flight. He scooted into the corner, tears pouring down his face, his plaintive, pleading sobs echoing in the stairwell, sounding like the moan of lost spirits, wondering the earth because their morbid deaths wouldn't allow them to pass into the light.

He gripped the glass in his good hand, and held up his broken wrist, and sliced into it, spurting blood.

Randy had taken Hennigan out, because as of late he'd been falling into a funk of Mike again. There were times when they roomed close enough to Layfield and Mike that they could hear yelling and fighting through the walls, and on those nights John couldn't sleep. He'd spend the night pacing the room back and forth, running his hands through his hair, wondering if he should try to do something, and if so, what?

Randy tried to talk to him, comfort him, get him back to bed but it never worked. He finally talked Vince into rearranging their rooms from then on so they weren't on the same floor as Mike and John. He used the excuse that John and Mike were always having loud sex, which turned Vince's face red.

It was late, much later than they'd intended to be out. John had only had a few drinks, practically forced on him by Randy. He knew the younger man was just trying to get him to loosen up and melt some of his nerves away, but as a rule John just didn't drink very much. He didn't like what it did to him, not to mention the calories.

They got back to the hotel around four, Randy stumbling behind John, because he'd drank a little more. They made it to the elevator, but it seemed to be out of order. Randy grumbled about it, laughing and saying he was too wasted to make it up the stairs. John patted him on the shoulder, and claimed he would drag Randy's ass up them. They both laughed as they stomped up the stairs, their footsteps noisy like horse hooves.

John was near the top, two flights left, Randy lagging behind and singing something John couldn't make out. He stopped shortly, plunged into shock and panic. He didn't recognize the mess at the top of the flight, but he _knew_ with every instinct he _knew. _His heart bumped up into his throat and he sprang up the stairs, taking them three at a time and falling down next to the curled up man, it was so messy, so surreal, it was like he had been suddenly plunged into a horror movie where his very worst nightmare had been fulfilled. He didn't even realized he was screaming, sobbing, for Randy to call 911 emergency.

John tore off his shirt and wrapped it as tight as he could around on of Mike's wrists, trying to stop the blood that dripped and puddled. Next he yanked his belt free, and used that for the other wrist. He bent over Mike, seeing his poor face, his poor sweet face, soaked with blood, split, injured, swollen, nothing like the face of the man he knew. He shook his shoulders, begging, pleading for him to open his eyes, breath, something, just something.

"God damn it Mike, Mike, for fucks sake!" John shook his shoulders even harder, it didn't help. He needed to keep a handle on the situation, as much as he could. He took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair, tangling it with Mike's blood.

Randy stumbled up the stairs and froze, his phone was already pressed to his ear, and he was slurring to the operator that there was an emergency, though he didn't know what until he'd got to the top of the stairs. Suddenly, he was completely sober, all the alcohol in his body seemed to disappear, his stomach turned itself sick as he looked at all that blood in disbelieve.

"Sir? Sir?" The woman chirped in his ear. Finding his voice, he started to shout into the phone, a stream of pleas for help and curses.

John bent over Mike, listening for his breathing, his own breath pent up in his chest painfully. When he heard nothing, his own held breath burst out in a splitting cry. He rocked back and forth, fighting the total panic that threatened to eat him alive. Hands convulsing he pinched Mike's nose and opened his mouth, tilting his head back, crying even harder when he noticed the broken teeth and the black circle around his neck. He placed his lips to Mike's and gave his breath to the man he loved, the man he would always love.

_This is my fault, this is my fault, I did this to him. _

He tore the buttons on Mike's shirt, splaying the fabric open, he pressed just below his sternum, trying to remember how many compressions he was supposed to do, and losing count as his mind spun out of control like a planet flying off its axis and whirling into the sun. Again, he smashed his lips to Mike's, a morbid, blood filled kiss. _Wake up, wake up, son of a bitch you have to wake up, wake up, for fucks sake wake up!_

John was completely lost, yelling again and again between breaths, his head getting dizzy as he tried over and over to put life into Michael Mizanin. _Wake up, you have to. I love you, you have to wake up.  
_

_**I can't bear to leave you with that huge of a cliffhanger. I promise I will have the next chapter up tonight, because I'm really tuned in to this fic right now. I will tell you, that I know this was really bad to read, and maybe it is some comfort to tell you, very shortly John Layfield is going to get what's coming to him. Please go read something happy now.**_


	31. Chapter 31

**Thanks for the reviews, as always. Very close to the end. Last chapter will be up tonight. :)** **Sorry that there are a couple of pretty long paragraphs, but Vince got to ranting, and it didn't feel right to break them up.**

**Chapter 31**

The commotion in the stairwell, and what had happened, had been heard by every ear by morning. There were a lot of men milling around with gloomy faces, _guilty,_ faces because maybe they could have done or said something, and no one really tried. The closest one who came to helping was Mickie, and maybe Mark, but Glen had tugged on his elbow, and against his better judgment, he'd stayed in his room that night. The big man had been alone most of the day, down in the lobby moping on the couch, his stomach twisting its self into knots. Mike was in the hospital, his condition not good, after being beat senseless by that son of a bitch Layfield, and then using a piece of glass as a last resort to get away from his problems, suicide. Mark couldn't imagine what would push anyone so far that the only glimmer of hope they saw was to die. He shuddered, thinking of some of the things he'd heard mumbled around here and there about how John H had found Mike, how he'd looked, how horrible it was. _If only I would have went down, I could have prevented this._ Mark sighed, leaned back on the couch, and toyed with the thought of going up to Layfield's room right now and beating the shit out of him. He could easily find a dozen other guys who would go with him. But this was the problem, everyone was willing to kick ass after the fact, where were they when they were really needed?

Mark thought about all the times he'd seen Mike tagging a long with JBL to a show, waiting alone, looking like a lost soul. He could have taken time to stopped and talked to the kid, he might have listened to a veteran like Mark, he might have got through some how. He recalled all the times he'd heard whispers and conversations flying around the locker room about the couple, about Mike's mental state, some of the comments nasty and rude. He'd never said anything about any of it. He could have gone to Vince, which would have been the most logical thing, but he'd just stayed silent.

"Hey Mark."

Mark looked up to see Mickie, she had a cup of coffee in her hands, her eyes were pink from crying, her nose a matching shade of red. She sat down next to him, blowing on her coffee and sniffling.

"Hey doll." Mark wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, her eyes started to leak and she rubbed at them.

"I don't know what to do with John." She said, talking about Hennigan. "I've been up there with him and Randy for a couple hours, we can't get him to stop crying. Randy's holding him, trying to help, he's hysterical."

"Everyone's devastated." Mark said quietly.

"God Mark, I can't believe he…he tried to…to kill himself. It breaks my heart to think of him feeling that hopeless. He's like my little brother." Mickie burst into tears, her hands trembled, spilling her coffee onto her pants. Mark took the cup from her hand and sat it on a low table, and drew Mickie into his arms. After a couple minutes, and wetting Mark's shirt through, she pulled back and looked up at him red faced.

"I'm sorry."

"We're all sorry."

John woke to his cell phone ringing shrilly. With a grumble, he rolled over and shut it off, and buried his head under his pillows. Moments later, just as Layfield was drifting on the edge of sleep, and was again disturbed, this time by his room phone.

"Son of a bitch." He mumbled, snatching the phone and barking into it.

"Layfield."

The voice on the line was cold, he almost didn't place it as Vince's, and he rubbed his eyes groggily for a moment, before realizing.

"Oh, Vince."

"My room, 510." Vince barked, and hung up. John put the phone back down and furrowed his eyebrows at it. Vince didn't seem very pleased with him, what had John Layfield done to anger the almighty corporate god? John shrugged, and swung his feet over the side of the bed. He stood up and stretched, and with dawning clarity, he realized something was wrong. He whipped his head to the side, and he noticed Mike wasn't in bed next to him. His heart leaped up into his chest.

"Michael?" He hurried to the bathroom, the only other place he could be. He flung the door open so hard one of the hinges came loose. _He left…he really fucking left…and he's tattle-told to Vince about how he's been treated. _John sighed, rummaging in hi suitcase, afraid that this time maybe he'd gone too far. But then again, what business was it to Vince what John Layfield does to his lover? John dressed quickly and ran a comb through his hair, some mouthwash was swished and swooshed, and he was headed out. The moment he stepped out his door, he was jumped by Matt, Chris, Ken, and Phil.

All of their voices mingled together in shouts and obscenities, he barked back at them, flinging Punk into a wall and shoving Ken onto the ground. They were up quickly, joining back in with Matt and Chris as they rained punches at him.

"Get the fuck off of me you crazy bastards!" John roared, turning on them and taking Chris out with a fist to the mouth. The blond stumbled backwards, spitting blood and a piece of his front teeth onto the floor. That sent Matt flying at John, and Layfield did the first thing that came to his mind, he clotheslined Matt, sending him flat on his back, clutching at his throat and gasping as Chris started to rant again, and Ken and Punk tried for round three. John managed to get away from them by darting into the elevator. He closed the door, narrowly avoiding Punk's hand sliding in and stopping them from closing.

He sand back against the wall, getting his breath and running his fingers through his hair. When the doors opened at the fifth floor, Cena backed him into the elevator, pinning his arms against the wall.

"Get off a'me you punk!" Layfield growled, shoving Cena away.

"You have no right to be calling me a punk." The young man snarled, his face hard and serious. "You're sick. Get out of here." Cena let go of John's shoulders and glared as the Texan slowly made his way from the elevator.

John hurried down to Vince's room, his boots clicking a quick pace down the hallway. He gave a soft knock, then saw the door was left ajar. He pushed it opened and walked in, trying to straighten out his shirt from the scuffle on the way here.

"Vince, you really need t'talk t'some of these younger guys. They have no respe--"

"I need to talk to you, Layfield." Vince spat, rising from the chair he was seated in and striding to John, a furious fire in his eyes that John hadn't seen for a very long time.

"Me? Vince, ah didn't start any of this--"

"Do you know how to keep your mouth shut? I said _I _need to talk to _you._ That doesn't require any words from you!" Vince yelled, his voice a vicious, pit-bull growl. John's eyes went wide in shock, his mouth was still open, but he snapped it shut quickly, biting his tongue. "Some men, Layfield, really surprise me. I've known you to have a hot temper, but I always respected you. All these years, I never knew what kind of monster I was dealing with." Vince circled John, his hands laced behind his back, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"You have more than crossed a line with me. If I would have known about this shit going on, I would have put a stop to it far sooner. Unfortunately, I had to find out when an ambulance came to this hotel at around four-fucking-thirty this morning. Someone was found lying in the stairwell, beaten to a mother-fucking mess, his wrists cut." Vince voice rose steadily, until he was shouting possibly as loud as John was capable of, his voice quivering with his rage, his body trembling with it, a vein at the side of his head throbbing visibly. "Who would that have been John? What sorry son of a bitch would do something like that to another human being? John, can you tell me, can you tell me!" Vince backed John into the wall with his words, he was literally spitting them at John, his spray dappling John's face which had drained white. Their noses were merely inches away, Vince's intense eyes burning holes into John's. The Texan said nothing, just kept Vince's gaze until his boss broke away.

"I'll tell who did it John. I know from experience. A coward did that, a fucking coward beat Michael Mizanin, a selfish son of a bitch, spineless, gutless, piece of shit that doesn't deserve to be stuck to the bottom of my shoe!" Vince paced, his eyes constantly on John. He couldn't remember ever being so infuriated, it was all he could do to keep from beating the man senseless himself. "John, maybe you don't know this. A lot of the guys don't know this, but when I was a child, I lived with my mother and step father, and he used to beat the fuck out of me. Do you know why he did that John? It gave him a rush to pick on someone smaller than him, to feel like he was big and powerful, it gave him some kind of sick ego trip. Once I got to be bigger than him, he didn't touch me. That kind of man, who will prey on someone weaker than he is, who enjoys the pain, who gets off on every whimper and tear, that is a sick fucking bastard, and a coward. John Layfield, you are a dickless coward, and I'd knock your teeth through your throat, but I won't lower myself to that level."

Once again, Vince had John pressed to the wall, no place to run to, no where to go. The tips of their noses actually touched, Vince's fist rested just beneath John's chin, quivering and wanting so bad to bust him, but Vince McMahon is a man of strong will, so slowly he lowered his balled hand. "No John, I won't hit you, but I will fire you. My company is like a second family to me, and if there's some snot ball fucking up my family, their ass is gone. John…"

"Vince—Mr. McMahon sir, surely y'don't mean that, I'm a veteran, I'm a wrestling god." John stammered, watching with horror as Vince's lips turned upwards into a pleased smirk.

"…Layfield…" Vince continued, his shout reverberating in John's ears.

"But-but-Mike ain't even workin' for the company and I--"

"YOU'RE FUCKING FIRED!" Vince roared, his eyes twitching, his hands still itching to maim the son of a bitch. "Now get out, before I call security and have you escorted out."

On shaky legs, John left. Vince slammed the door behind him, and for a moment John just stood there leaning on it, not completely sure if what had happened was just real. Vince certainly couldn't be serious, like he was the first man in the company to ever strike his lover, it happened all the time. John could admit he'd taken it too far, putting Mike into suicidal mode hadn't been his intent. He didn't want the dumb fuck dead. But even at that, it shouldn't matter, what right does Vince fucking McMahon have to tell John Layfield—or anyone else—how to live behind closed doors? And the bullshit about his 'family' well, Mike wasn't even working for Vince any more, hadn't for a little over a year.

Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe this was time for John to move on with his life. He could focus more on his businesses, Layfield Energy, Mamajuanna, Custom Muscle, his financial reports, and it wouldn't be so hard to find another whelp like Mike Mizanin. People like Mike were everywhere, desperately waiting for someone to latch on to, just asking to be a victim. John fixed his collar and shoved his hair back from his forehead. He headed back to his room, to pack his things and forget about Mike. He didn't really matter in the first place, it shouldn't be too hard.

John packed his things up, leaving Mike's suitcase and clothes in the room, not bothering to take care of the broken bottle of Jim Beam or the blood that stained the carpet. He made his way to the parking garage, and started to load up his rental.

"Randy, Randy please." John sobbed into his shirt. "Just take me to go see Mike."

"Baby, I don't know if they're allowing anyone…he's…" _In critical condition. _Randy finished mentally.

"We can try, please, I-I wa-want to be with him. I have to be-be with him."

Randy sighed, and brushed a few pieces of tear plastered hair away from John's face. The poor guy was hysterical, and had been for the last three or so hours. Randy and John locked eyes, John's eyes pleading, and Randy's finally giving in.

"Okay. I'll take you. I'm only saying it because pretty soon you're probably going to go drive yourself there if I keep saying no, and you're in no condition to drive."

John wrapped his arms around Randy's neck, hugging the stuffing out of him, before standing up shakily.

"Let's go ahead and pack our stuff up. That way we can just leave straight from the hospital." Randy suggested, getting up and picking some of his clothes up from the floor. He shoved them in his suitcase, waded up. Even John who was usually picky about how he packed up shoved things here and there, even grabbing one of Randy's t-shirts and stuffing it in his own suitcase. Soon they were in the parking garage, Randy behind the wheel of their rental, John loading the suitcases into the trunk. He loaded Randy's, then turned around to pick up his own, when across the row, he saw Layfield. He ducked his head into the trunk, seething, taking deep breathes to try to calm himself and resist the overwhelming urge to jump the bigger man. John was fast, and he could hold his own in a brawl, but Layfield was much bigger, and a psychopath at that. Hennigan closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, he counted to three before opening them again, and tossing the hair back from his face. However, he froze still when his eyes fell onto something in the back of the trunk. There was a hiss as he drew in a quick breath of air, and his hand wrapped around the object.

For a few, brief, moments, John Hennigan might have lost his mind. His thoughts were practically incoherent as he snuck slowly, stealthily, up to John "Bradshaw" Layfield. He knew the exact spot to hit, the point of JBL's weakness, an old injury. He felt like he imagined a lion must feel as it stalks its prey, waiting silently, watching, ready with its sleek muscles to pounce. John stopped, merely a couple feet from his target. A loud, inhuman sounding cry burst from him and echoed through the parking garage, and the tire iron in his hand met squarely with the middle of the Texan's back, a sickening sound against the vertebrae.

Another wail tore through the parking garage, this one worse than the first. Layfield dropped to the cold cement, writhing in pain. John brought the iron weapon down again, this time crashing into Layfield's knee, the sound of it against the big mans flesh music, sweet music. He clutched at his knee, the white hot pain too much to even produce a sound, just a gape mouthed muted scream, eyes rolling white and glistening. Next, the weapon met just inside of Layfield's thigh, narrowly missing his crotch. A guttural wail filled the silence, as Layfield's hands went from his knee to his groin. John tossed the tire iron aside and fell on Layfield, spitting and screaming curses, his fists slamming into his face again and again and again.

"This is for Mike, this is for Mike you sorry son of a whore!" John snarled, his fists drawing blood from Layfield's nose, lips, swelling his eyes, just like all the times Layfield battered Mike, just like all the times he hurt his poor face, squashed his heart, killed his soul.

Randy was up and out of the car at the first scream, frozen where he stood, until the second cry met his ears. He was quickly over to the brawl, and grabbed Hennigan around his small waist, trying to pry him away. He got a hard elbow to the stomach and stumbled backwards. Gasping for breath, he tried again, this time John's knuckles connected with his jaw, sending him tripping over his feet and onto his ass. Quickly, as though Randy had never pulled him away, John was back on Layfield, now raining punches into his soft stomach as he flailed around, shouting about his back, tears streaming from his face.

Vince sent out a text, to everyone on the roster. He'd dealt with Layfield, now it was time to ask the rest of his talent what the hell was wrong with them. He sat back on his bed, tapping his fingers impatiently on his elbow, his anger and blood pressure boiling to an unhealthy high. Soon a few of his talent was filtering into the room. Vince didn't say a word, just burned them with his eyes as they all shifted around uncomfortable, daring not to say a word or raise their eyes to look at him. It wasn't long before the room was filled with the entire roster, minus John H and Randy, and Vince started to pace, much as he had when Layfield was in the room.

"I've called you all here to ask a very important question." Vince stated, his voice gruff. His eyes looked over each face, all of them familiar. Mark was dropping his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Glen was next to him chewing his lip, his hands shoved in his pockets. Chris and Matt were holding hands, Chris sporting a broken tooth and Matt with a bruise coloring his neck. Every face Vince looked at was full of guilt, eyes avoided matching his, feet squirmed nervously. "I want to know why no one came to me about this. I know some of you saw things, I know all of you heard things. Somehow, everyone seems to have known this was happening but me. Did all of your balls drop off? Did you forget you were men? Did you forget that the WWE is your family? I trust my talent to watch out for each other, to tell me when something fucked up is going on. What if this happened to your brother, your sister, your mother, if some brainless thug was beating one of your loved ones would you close your eyes, stick your fingers in your ears, and sing LA LA LA LA so you could pretend it didn't exist? Is that what you'd do just become deaf and blind and let someone else handle it? Well, I hope all of you have learned something from this. Even more so, I hope Michael can pull through this, physically and mentally." He turned to face his employees, the guys he thought of fondly as his second family. "I'm through with you. Just think about your actions, or lack thereof. I'm keeping in contact with the hospital, and I'll be sure to let everyone know about updates on Mike's condition."

Without words the group filed out of the room, communally feeling like crap. A lot of them sauntered away, a few of the older guys stayed behind congregating there outside Vince's door. A few mumbles started up among them, but any conversation that might have been started in the hallway was cut off when Randy swerved in the hallway, nearly careening into the wall. He stopped short, tugging on Mark's shirt, panting.

"What, what is it Orton?" The tall man questioned, his green eyes narrowing.

"John…Hennigan…Jibble…John snapped."

As a herd of one, the half dozen guys loitering in the hallway took off with Randy to the parking garage. All of them had the same mistaken thought that the "John" Randy referred to as "snapping" was Layfield. The group stopped at the back of Layfield's car, clustered there with their mouths hanging in various degrees of openness, displaying their shock at Hennigan beating the crap out of Layfield. Mark pushed through, and tugged John away from Layfield, the whole time the littler man spitting and screaming like a wild cat.

For the second time that morning, and ambulance was called to the hotel. But unlike before, no one had been called to Vince's office. Perhaps Vince didn't feel an ounce of remorse for what happened to Layfield, perhaps he felt justice had been served. Maybe it had, or maybe it never would. Physical injuries mend, leave scars, ache when it rains, but mental and emotional injuries may never heal, the slightest thing tearing them open to bleed fresh. Maybe the verdict on justice was still out, or maybe, there is no justice, and it doesn't even matter. Maybe there's just time, and the inner strength to grasp your courage, and move on.


	32. Chapter 32

**Okay, here it is. The end of this long journey, I hope it's been worth it to get here. I really hope you enjoy it. Thank you guys so much. **

**Last Chapter**

All together, it had taken nearly two years of treatment to get his ducks in a row. There had been countless sessions with therapists and psychologists, playing with medication until he could function fairly well without falling into a sleepy coma, and it helped to fix the things that had swerved off track chemically, internally. Next was reshaping his self-image, self-worth, self-esteem, all those self-things that Mike had lost somewhere a long the way. It took a long time and a lot of work to build up everything John had destroyed in him, it took so long to look in the mirror and not cry, to eat a meal and not want to throw it up, to go to bed alone in a room and actually go to sleep, not lay awake and drowning in loneliness and despair, to see a sharpened pencil or a pair of scissors, and not want to cause self injury or death with it. Many of the days were hell, many of the days he wanted to be dead, many of them he spent drowning in the pain of all his memories.

After those long, hard, two years, Mike had climbed out of that deep pit, and was found well enough to be on his own. Mickie had left wrestling by then, and she came to visit Mike pretty regularly while he was in treatment. He'd even gotten some mail and phone calls from Hennigan, when the staff allowed it. However, it was Mickie who picked him up on the day he was released from the hospital, ready to take a shaky step back into the world, or at least Ohio. For a month or two, he stayed with her, but he soon had a job working third shift at a company that did packaging, and was ready to get out on his own. It really seemed like forever, maybe never, since he'd been truly independent. Mickie shrieked with delight when he announced this to her. She wanted to grab up a newspaper and the internet and start helping him with a search for an apartment, but she knew it would be best to let him do it on his own. It was hard for her to lay off the 'big sister' mode and decrease her insatiable desire to mother him.

Pretty soon, Mickie was helping Mike move into his apartment, her excitement making her giddy like a child. Mike was nervous, a little bit of the old fear creeping up inside of him, being there in the apartment alone. It still made his nerves quiver, but he knew he could get used to it. He'd discovered he was stronger than he'd thought he was, and he needed to give himself credit for that.

Mickie had taken a picture of Mike sitting on his couch, a big smile on his face, the day of the move in. She'd hugged him a zillion times, each time he smiled—a genuine, pleased expression—she'd practically burst into tears. _Wait Mike, I almost forgot…_with a grin nearly stretching to her ears, Mickie had left the apartment to go out to her car. When she'd come back, she held a squirming, spotted, puppy in her arms. Mike had nearly melted, he couldn't find the words to thank her. She placed it in his lap, and immediately, it climbed onto his chest and lathered his face with kisses as Mike laughed. Mickie bawled like a baby. _So you're never alone Mike. _She sniffled. _See her name?_ Mickie pulled the anxious puppy back for a moment, so Mike could read the tag, _Hope._

Tonight, nearly five years after he'd tried to end it all, Mike held Hope. He scratched at her ears and her cold nose met his cheek, her little pink tongue lashing out to dole out her affection. When he had her around, he always remembered where he had been, and where he was now. There was still the occasional bad day, where even his medication didn't seem to quite help enough, but a bad day is a common occurrence here and there in the life of every person on the earth. The hard day now and then could be coped with, all that mattered was that Mike had found himself again, was back on his feet, enjoying life, and even been training for a new job.

"Alright Hope, that's enough." He gave her a parting pet, and placed her on the floor, where she shook her head, making her tags rattle.

Tonight was a very special night, Smack Down was taping in Cleveland, and Mike was heading that way. He was full of excitement, it had been ages sense he'd seen a WWE live event. He made sure Hope had enough food and water, and her favorite toy, and he turned the t.v. on for her before he left. Tonight was going to be a very, very good night. He was most happy about getting to see John H again, they'd kept in contact through email and phone calls, but he hadn't actually seen John in person since everything went down. He'd heard it had been John who saved his life, even though he hadn't wanted it at the time. Tonight, he planned on thanking John, among other things that would make it one of Mike's most treasured memories.

Something was off with the guys. John sensed it as he warmed up, stretching into a split that had a few of the newbies eyeing him with unabashed lust. He smirked at a couple of them, flashing them glances that were questionable, possibly flirty. His mood shifted when Phil walked in, glancing at John in a strange way like everyone else seemed to be doing tonight. It was like they were all in the loop about some big conspiracy that revolved around him.

"What's going on around here?" John demanded, getting to his feet. He flipped his hair over his shoulders and pulled off his sunglasses, and strutted up to Hardy. "Are you going to tell me? Is someone? Come on, you're all playing some juvenile prank on me, aren't you?" The Shaman of Sexy rolled his eyes, and replaced his sunglasses.

"Did you hear?" Phil asked, cocking a cut eyebrow at John. "Cody isn't going to be your tag partner tonight after all. He took sick at the last minute…explosive diarrhea or something." The Straight Edge superstar laughed, showing off his tongue ring.

"You're full crap, Punk." John teased, tugging Phil's trunks down to his knees.

"Hey now." Punk chastised, putting a fake angry look on and pulling his starry gear back up.

Back in Vince's on site office, he sat with a superstar who was having a bit of a case of nerves.

"You're ready." Vince smiled. "I know it, kid." He slapped the young man on the leg, both of them grinning from ear to ear.

The guy was finishing taping his wrists, thinking of the things he'd learned from the scars that remained there.

"Here, I almost forgot." Vince picked up a hat that was resting on his desk and put it atop the man's head, fitting it over his bandana.

"Thanks," He flashed Vince a smile, his pretty blue eyes glittering. "It looks even better than the old one."

John stood out in the ring, facing Cena and Big Show, waiting for Cody's music to hit. Moments later, it did, but to John's shock, Cody didn't show. _Punk wasn't lying…_ John resisted the urge to furrow his brows in confusion and break his character. It wasn't like any of the McMahons to change something and not tell everyone involved in the match what was going on. King and Todd bantered back and forth about Cody's lack of appearance, and the music hit a second time. Once again, no Rhodes.

"Whose going to tag with Morrison!" King squealed.

"I don't know King, but--"

Todd was interrupted by familiar music, and John's character went out the window. He stumbled back against the turnbuckle, his mouth dropping open, shaking his head. It couldn't be, he was hallucinating!

"Is that who I think it is King?"

"It is, it is! That's-that's—THE MIZ!"

Cheers and jeers arose equally from the crowd, but the excitement was total, the noise level raising the roof. It was all John could do to keep from dissolving into tears right then and there. Those people in the audience, no one knew what this man had been through, what he'd overcame to be here, how John had found him and how he looked now, well and healthy, smug and smirking, just like his old character. He was in the ring, and he sauntered to John, bobbling his head.

"_Close your mouth." _Mike whispered, so no one else could hear. _"You'll get a fly buzzing in there…and for fucks sake, don't bawl on me."_

It was as though nothing had changed, no time had passed. They fell back into their tag team rhythm easily, as though it was just like riding a bike. Everything about the match was perfect, the crowd was electrified, the moves and team work just as good or perhaps even better than ever before. In fact, the match ran over its slotted time. The win was still the same, it had been scripted for Morrison and Rhodes, the belts were to be dropped to them, but instead it was Morrison and The Miz, The Greatest Tag Team of All Time, Be Jealous. It was an epic come back, to shock the hell out of John and win the tag belt all at the same time.

When they were finally back stage, John wrapped himself around Mike and burst into tears, babbling apologies over and over for what had happened with Cena some six years ago.

"Hey…" Mike untangled John's arms and grabbed his chin, wiping away his tears. "That was a different time, a different place, a lot of things are in the past now, and that's definitely one of them." He smiled, and placed his sequined and beaded fedora on John's head, laughing at how ridiculous he looked in it. The two of them bantered back and forth, just like they had long ago, before things got too complicated and went off the deep end. They walked into the locker room together, and all the guys stood there, clapping, cheering, wolf-whistling and howling for the killer match, for Mike's return. Many of them even had tears in there eyes. Mike bowed dramatically, putting on a smug "The Miz" act and snatching his hat from John and tossing it to Mark, who put it on, which brought a burst of laughter from everyone. The big man stepped forward, and wrapped Mike up in a hug, telling him in a cracking voice how good it was to have him back. More hugs and handshakes followed, and as these men offered their sincere congratulations, heartfelt and tear full, Mike realized something he'd never comprehended before.

_This, this is it. The simple things that the people around you show they care, that's what it really is, that's what really matters. The feeling that blossoms like this, I feel it, I've discovered it. _

Mike turned to John Hennigan, and kissed him, their lips were made for each other, nothing could be more perfect. Whatever had happened in the past was forgotten in that kiss, and something better was discovered, inside himself, in John, and in those all around him. _Love, I've finally discovered love._ Mike closed his eyes, wanting the moment to never end.

**End. I hope you liked it despite the major angsty parts. Thank you for all of those who have stuck with it, I really appreciate it and all your feedback. *hugs* To all of you!!**


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